


Welcome To The Other Side

by Hekate1308



Category: White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Criminal Peter Burke, F/M, FBI Agent Neal Caffrey, Gen, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29556429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: This… wasn’t exactly what he had pictured when he had first gotten hold of the suspect’s address a few hours ago.For four years, he’d followed the man’s rather impressive career of theft and forgery – each deed, much as he loathed to admit it, bigger and more impressive than the last – he’d slowly but surely chipped away at his fake IDs, unravelled his plans, traced his every step – and now it had led him here.A house with an actual picket fence in the middle of a New York suburb.
Relationships: Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey/Kate Moreau, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Comments: 13
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I recently got into White Collar, and of course I had to write fanfiction about it - in this case, AU because naturally. Enjoy!

This… wasn’t exactly what he had pictured when he had first gotten hold of the suspect’s address a few hours ago.

For four years, he’d followed the man’s rather impressive career of theft and forgery – each deed, much as he loathed to admit it, bigger and more impressive than the last – he’d slowly but surely chipped away at his fake IDs, unravelled his plans, traced his every step – and now it had led him here.

A house with an actual picket fence in the middle of a New York suburb.

If he was right – and he was certain he was; he had triple-checked everything – then he was standing in front of the home of a man who had forged countless bank bonds, stolen valuable baseball cards, and tried to sell a Degas (well, an excellent forgery) at least five times (and succeeded four out of those – and if it hadn’t been for their team intervening, he would have gone five out of five). And those were just the highlights.

And yet, there had always been something… strange about his case. He exclusively targeted rich people who were mostly dicks and big corporations, as well as museums who shouldn’t have had the art pieces he… acquired in the first place, only for said pieces to show up at the rightful owner’s place (who, it had to be said, sometimes denied the fact); and, if someone who happened not to have that much money was caught in the crossfire, they more often than not received a generous check from some “insurance” or another.

And it all seemed so… utterly normal. Dull. Boring.

It suddenly made much more sense that he should be content to work as a self-employed CPA, doing mostly small jobs.

This wasn’t how he had imagined his most infamous arrest yet.

Well, not quite an arrest – there would have been witnesses for that, of course, he was always careful to put on a good show; but he was about to make the first proper contact with his suspect, have his first face-to-face talk with him, and he’d somehow, despite the address, pictured a big house, a mansion, really, filled with all those comforts even he longed for sometimes but could never hope to afford on his salary.

What was he doing with all of the money? If he had been new to the business, it would have been a smart move – he would have laid low until some time had passed, then carefully begun spending his wealth – but it had been years. Certainly, he could have bought at least one actually nice car, instead of his sensible, work-related one, without raising too many eyebrows. 

There was nothing to do but to ring the bell and see. He straightened his hat and did just that.

The woman who opened it was rather beautiful – a little too beautiful, in fact; he had seen pictures of his man (finally, freaking _finally_ , although he couldn’t say why he’d looked strangely familiar) and while he was far from ugly, “pleasantly plain” was probably the best way to describe him.

His wife, on the other hand…

Well, the money had to go somewhere, he thought rather flippantly.

He introduced himself and showed his credentials.

She appeared genuinely surprised. “By all means, do come in, agent.”

The house looked exactly as one would have expected from the outside – comfortably furnished and lived-in; but of course the man was too clever to let any suspicions arise because a neighbour wanted to borrow some sugar and wondered about his life style.

“You have a lovely home” he observed.

If she heard his slightly sarcastic undertone, she didn’t notice. “So… is this about my husband?”

He blinked; normally, suburban wives didn’t immediately jump to the conclusion that the FBI wanted to talk to them about their husbands. Maybe she knew more of the matter after all?

“I mean, you said you were from the White Collar department, and I would know if anything was wrong with our books at Premiere Events, so that leaves him.”

Or maybe she was just being clever. He couldn’t be sure. “Yes” he admitted “it has to do with his… work.”

She nodded, apparently satisfied. “He’ll be back soon; he’s meeting with a client – his business is in a bit of trouble and he hopes he can help – coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

It quickly transpired that she was clever, sensible and good company; he would have regretted having to arrest her husband if he hadn’t let go of any such regrets long ago. There was a certain detachment that eventually came with the job.

“Oh, that was in 1998. I was working for an art gallery” she happily explained after his question on how they had met, “And he was called in to fix some slight trouble with the insurance of the pieces.”

  1. That was a start; it was always important to keep track of the important moments in their suspects’ lives…



“And we started talking one day and I mentioned I had a weakness for Italian food. He knew of a new restaurant that had just opened, but was too shy to openly ask me out. So I eventually slipped him a piece of paper reaffirming that I loved Italian. And here we are.”

Having stolen art worth millions of dollars, and living in the suburbs. Having conned enough men that they could fill a room with files, and yet he’d been too shy to ask out the woman who would become his wife. Add to all of that –

“Oh, don’t mind Satchmo. He’s a cuddler.”

He looked down into all too happy brown eyes.

A dog. The white picket fence, the perfect wife, the dog.

Was there anything this man had that didn’t scream _absolutely ordinary American citizen_?

“Hey, you” he said, scratching Satchmo behind the ears. “So who’s the Louis Armstrong fan?”

“Oh, I named him. We got him shortly after we got married and moved in.”

So they _had_ lived here all their married life, even though her husband must have millions on a hidden bank account _somewhere_.

Before he could answer, the door opened. “Honey, I’m home!”

He almost rolled his eyes. Was there anything more cliché then –

But even he had to admit there was something endearing about the way the woman’s face lit up as she hastened to great her husband. “Hey, you. Nice day at work?”

“Just another one who lets his paperwork gather dust for years and then wonders why he can’t make sense of anything” he said lightly, kissing her. “And who’s that? Sitting on my couch, drinking my coffee, petting my dog… your secret lover, I assume?”

“Guilty as charged. I always let them come over when you meet with clients.”

As far as he knew from the file his right hand had assembled – and as she had just confirmed – they had been married for slightly over ten years, and still bantered like newlyweds in love. He got up from the sofa and introduced himself properly.

The suspect’s handshake was dry and firm; he looked him straight into the eyes. An honest, good man, or at least anyone who met him would be ready to swear so.

As such, the best cover he had ever beheld.

And suddenly, he knew where he had seen him before.

A few weeks ago – he’d been investigating the forged bank bonds; and right there, at the bank, as he’d entered, someone – _someone_ had held open the door for him, “Please, go ahead”, a friendly smile, a helpful hand, _of course, why wouldn’t I wait until you’ve passed_ …

And he’d never have known if he hadn’t gotten lucky about a week ago, leading him here.

God, the guy was good.

Not that he’d let him know that, now or on any other point in time.

“So what can I help you with on this fine day, agent?”

“Let me get you some coffee.”

“Thank you” he said, kissing her again, and she skipped to the kitchen. Thank God he had lost all qualms of that kind years ago, or he would indeed have felt guilty for wanting to arrest her husband.

“You’re a very lucky man” he commented.

“Oh, I know. I married up. Now, what seems to be the problem?”

What a perfect concerned citizen he was.

He reached for the bag he had brought with him. “I was told that you recently completed an audit of the company of one Wesley Kent… he’s being interrogated for corporate espionage as we speak.”

“Ah” he said immediately, “So Miss Breslin did decide to go to the authorities with her suspicions… I am rather glad she did.”

“Yes; she did eventually mention that the CPA in question found a few irregularities…”

“Not enough to arise any suspicions on their own, but paired with her knowledge of the firm…” he readily supplied. “I told her she should listen to her conscience, and do what she considered best.”

_Regular boy scout, aren’t you._

“And, when you were there… was there anything in Mr. Kent’s behaviour that made you think something bigger might be amiss?”

He shook his head. “Oh no. He was very friendly – more so than many others at the time of their audits, to be frank. He actually offered me a job, but this high-end big money world has never attracted me.”

“So there was nothing? No obvious… fiddling with the books, perhaps, that he wanted to persuade you to ignore?”

“No. Like I said, apart from the minor irregularities I spoke about with Miss Breslin, there was nothing… most of his documents were in such perfect order that it would have needed a specialist to have faked them that well. I mean, I think I could probably do so, but as to motive…”

No blush, no stammer, not even the slightest hint of a sweat – just a simple statement.

There was a reason he hadn’t caught the guy in the four long years since he had first become aware of his existence. They hadn’t even been sure it was just one person in the beginning.

Well… he glanced at the wife as she returned with their coffees. But she seemed much to self-assured not to be utterly innocent…

“Quite frankly, it was a bit of a shot in the dark anyway” he said apologetically. “We are just at the beginning of the investigation, and it may even be that Mr. Kent’s deeds go back several years or decades. If there are any to begin with.”

“I assume you have to follow any leads that may present themselves” she said, sitting down next to her husband again, the very picture of a happy, supportive wife; even the dog now lay down at her feet, happily wagging his tail. 

Seriously, the one thing that made this different from any of the other acts he had seen over the years was that… this wasn’t an act. They were genuinely happy together, and _certainly_ , she knew nothing. This wasn’t a woman who in any way even doubted whether her husband’s work was in any way legal.

“Frankly, I am not surprised, despite his friendliness towards me; Mr. Kent struck me as somewhat sly, and he was pushy when trying to get me to take the job.”

_As opposed to you, who have never done anything wrong in your life?_

He wasn’t going to get any more out of this visit, so he decided to bid them goodbye for now.

It was the husband who accompanied him to the door, the wife having to feed the dog, apparently; he petted him one more time for good measure before leaving.

“If I can help in any way, don’t hesitate to call” he said, more affable than anyone had any right to be.

“Of course. I know how to find you.”

With anyone else, it would have been a threat, but his target clearly wasn’t feeling guilty in the least.

“I’m sure you do” he smiled, shaking his hand. “Goodbye, Agent Caffrey.”

“I’ll see you around, Mr. Burke.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Come one! You’re telling me we’ve got nothing!? Mozzie, I expected better than that.”

Quite frankly, he had wished for far more on this fine morning, the day after he’d first properly set eyes on his target.

Agent Theodore Winters – no one knew, and so far he had steadily denied any explanation, as to where his nickname came from – waved his hands in the air as he answered, “It’s not that easy, Neal! This one – you know how some people manage to live off the grid?”

“We have his address –“

“That’s exactly my point! This one’s not off the grid, he’s living proudly and freely _on_ the grid – an ordinary man with his ordinary house and his perfectly ordinary, if according to you lovely, wife! There is nothing there!”

“There has to be something. There’s always something.”

“Ah, you see, that’s another thing. Whenever we blow up one of his IDs, guess what happens – he simply slips back into the comfortable skin of Peter Burke, CPA extraordinaire, who likes to take his dog on walks and probably happily visits the neighbourhood BBQ once a month!”

“So we’ve got nothing.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

And wasn’t that Mozzie all over. Having decided to join the Bureau mostly to find evidence that the moon landing had been faked “from within”, Mozzie was nonetheless one of their best pencil-pushers; if there was anything to find, he usually did, despite his disappointment at not having been able to prove any of his beloved conspiracy theories yet.

“What is the first thing that comes to mind when you think _White Collar_?”

Neal looked at him across his desk, then grinned. “Follow the money.”

“Exactly. So, I went through some of those old files and figured out the earliest point at which some piece of art or another could have been exchanged for the worthless copy. Then, after what you told me yesterday, I had a hunch, so I checked out donations received by various charity in this wonderful mesh pot of human life we call the Big Apple. And voilà.”

He produced several pieces of paper. Neal studied them carefully. “Those are huge sums” he calculated.

“Oh yes. If I am right, then he seems to be donating the lion share of almost every coup.”

“Are you telling me he does all of _this_ – and then he continues his snug little life in suburbia without even using the money?”

Mozzie studied him then asked, “Problems with Kate again?”

“None, thank you” he muttered, well aware that he might have sounded a little bitter. There was indeed no problem with Kate… mostly because these days, they worked so much that they barely saw each other and the last time they had, she had accused him of being “obsessed” with the case and not paying attention to her.

And somehow this Peter Burke managed to be happily married in-between coups.

“You know, in case you need any tips how to keep the woman at your side satisfied…”

“Thank you, Mozzie, I’m good. So you’re saying after every big con, there’s a donation?”

“Yes, at least I think so. However, there’s another problem… he’s too clever to let any kind of pattern emerge. Sometimes it happens immediately, sometimes only months afterwards. And don’t forget that he mostly targets privately-owned pieces, also known as those the public never gets to see – and so far they’ve all been –“

“Yes, yes, I know, paintings with some kind of doubt about their provenience et cetera.”

As a matter of fact, they had only realized that an Egger-Lienz had been stolen by the Nazis from its original owners in Graz when it had shown up delivered via priority mail at said owner’s great-grandson’s house and the museum in Brooklyn had been rather put out when the case had gone through the papers, never knowing until that moment they had even been robbed. By that time, of course, everyone had been so delighted with the “miracle” that there had been nothing to do but grit their teeth, acquiesce and congratulate the rightful owners.

“You see, the man is more than just a forger. He is some kind of Robbin Hood.”

“Mozzie, please tell me you’re not _admiring_ the guy.”

“I can appreciate his craftsmanship. And he’s doing good.”

Neal sighed, thinking for the umpteenth time that they had gotten lucky when his tendency towards paranoia had compelled Mozzie to apply for the FBI instead of joining the other side. In this case, though, he could even understand him – Peter Burke was certainly the most interesting case he had ever had. “That may be, but it’s still illegal, and it’s our job to catch him.”

“I know, I am just saying…”

“Would you send Alex to my office when you see her, please?” he asked tiredly, grabbing the file, once more intent on trying to guess where their target would strike next.

* * *

Two hours later, he laid the file aside and rubbed his forehead. Trouble was, New York was a city brimming with opportunities for the apprising criminal; and even when it came to high-end jobs – forging bank bonds in a way the bank didn’t notice for at least several weeks, mixing the right colours to make even experts think they had a Vermeer on their hands, gaining access to the private vault of some eccentric millionaire – there were more than enough places to choose from.

But how he managed to do all of that, and have a nine-to-five job as CPA…

The mind boggled.

Neal had long considered the option that there were accomplices, simply because there had to be. Mastermind this, excellent forger that, there had to be people he trusted, people he knew he could trust, otherwise the risk wouldn’t be worth it. He didn’t think a gang, necessarily; but just enough… experts, if you wanted.

But how to find these accomplices, when he couldn’t even be certain of Peter Burke – when Mozzie had yet to find something that would connect him to his crimes?

* * *

“Here, hon; I wouldn’t want you to go hungry.”

“You’re the best” Peter told his wife, as he did almost every day, while accepting the lunch box she’d assembled for him. “I don’t know when I’ll get home” he continued, kissing her, “You should have seen the state of that place… files everywhere but where they belonged.”

She simply smiled, by now much too used to his tirades on the subject.

He scratched Satchmo’s ears. “And you, behave.”

He was almost out the door when he remembered, “Oh, and if you manage to drop by the studio and turn on the oven –“

“I know how long I have to cook a Degas for, don’t worry.”

“See you, hon” he grinned and made his way to the car.

* * *

After a rather frustrating morning trying to save his client’s finances, he was sent away by his client because he had an appointment with a “certain lady” as he put it. Just as well; he got paid either way, and there was always work at the office.

And this afternoon, the taxes he had to do belonged to a place close to his heart, as well.

To call the collections of the Manhattan Meanwhile Museum (much as he was loathe to admit it, it had a nice ring to it – some of those rich guys who wanted to leave something to the world had a sense of humour) was… eclectic to say the least, but Peter had always loved it, for upon stepping unto the premises, it quickly became clear that the founder had collected things not because of their value or their rarity, but because they were beautiful (sometimes, it must be admitted, only to him) and brought him joy, and he could respect that.

And so, he always accepted work from the museum, and had on more than one occasion foregone his fee simply so they could stay afloat. He made enough money with his day-time job and his… little hobbies, anyway; and El wasn’t the city’s best event planner for nothing.

In keeping with his philosophy, he had never stolen or forged a single piece from this particular museum, even though more than one little painting and stature made his fingers itch; but they all rightfully belonged exactly where they were.

Others, however, knew no such scruples.

He was working steadily when the door opened and his one and only employee and a good friend of his and El’s walked in.

“Hi boss” Diana greeted him, having been busy with an audit the past few days.

“Hello.” He looked up from the file to find her carrying a briefcase he had never seen before.

She showed it off and grinned. “Guess what’s in there?”

Knowing her, it could be anything from contraband stamps to a small mongoose. “I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

After checking no one was around (being in their office, naturally no one was) she opened the briefcase. “An MP5K, modified to shoot through a briefcase! Have you ever seen anything more beautiful! I’ll visit the Manhattan Meanwhile Museum today.”

Now, stealing from the weapons room there was fine by him, as she well knew – she wouldn’t have been stupid enough to try anything else in that particular museum. Peter himself had never had any use for weapons (although he had had to arm himself on occasions, regrettably, and made sure El could handle one as well should the need arise) but Diana had a pretty good collection, according to other experts (both from the legal and illegal side of things) and seemed bent on adding another piece today. “Good work.”

“It wasn’t easy. The trigger in the handle was pretty tricky.”

He nodded. “When?”

“About fifteen minutes from now. Watchman’s going on his lunch break, then, and the cameras miraculously won’t be working for about thirty seconds. Since you’re here, might as well get some friendly gossip in.” She studied the file. “Ah. How fitting. It’s fate it seems. Are they paying you this time, boss?”

“Yes, but not my usual rate, although they tried to insist.”

“You’re too good for this world.”

“I try my very best.”

“How’s El?”

“Wonderful as always. How’s Christie?”

Diana had just moved in together with her girlfriend; Peter reminded himself that they should have them over for dinner again soon.

“Wonderful as well. Oh, that reminds me…” her voice dropped out of habit despite them still being alone. “There’s someone who _isn’t_ having such a wonderful time at the moment.”

“Oh?” he dotted an i, then looked back at her. “Who is it?”

“Clinton’s in a bit of trouble.”

He laid his pen aside. “I told him he shouldn’t go for Rem-“

“Not that. But one of his identities’ been compromised and he’s not sure any of the others are safe.”

He thought about it for a moment… who could he possible… no, Fowler was out of the question. He couldn’t trust him anymore after that business in Italy… But maybe… ah, yes. “Someone owes me a favour. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, boss. Knew he could count on you.”

As Peter could on him. Jones was one of the best legend builders in the business; he just needed someone who could create a good enough ID.

Fifteen minutes later, Diana texted him to let him know she had just walked out of the museum with the original briefcase gun, no one the wiser that a very well-made replica was now hanging on the wall. 

He whistled as he continued working.

* * *

He dropped by his studio on his way home and found the Degas ready, as he had suspected he would. El was nothing if not thorough.

And it was an excellent piece of work if he said so himself.

Something that a man of taste could appreciate, someone like, well, Special Agent Caffrey perhaps.

Caffrey… now there was a potential spanner in the works.

Not that he as all too worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course El knows. I sure hope you didn't think she didn't ;).


	3. Chapter 3

Peter arrived home punctually, something he always relished; El was already there making dinner.

“Hey, you” she kissed him. “How does the Degas look?”

“Absolutely perfect, just like you.”

“It was really nothing; just me and the timer on my phone.”

“That’s still one hell of a timer” he replied, drawing her close.

“Aren’t you just the charmer”.

“That’s me”. He suddenly remembered. “Just give me a moment, I need to call Phillip.”

Phillip Kramer had been one of the first to notice his talents… for trickery and a few other illegal activities, that was; in a way, he’d been his mentor. And he always knew the right people.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Clinton’s got a few problems and needs a new ID.”

“Oh. Does he need a hideout for the time being?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Diana would have mentioned it.”

“How is Diana?”

“One gun richer. She dropped by a museum – they have – had a gun she’d had her eye on for a while, apparently.”

El chuckled as she poured him a glass of wine. “She’ll never change. Did you invite her and Christie for dinner?”

“Not yet, I wanted to ask you first” he answered while pulling out his cell phone.

“You know I don’t stand on such ceremonies.”

Did he ever. It was one of the reasons he had married her.

Phillip picked up on the first ring, as he usually did. “Peter. What can I do for you?”

It was his normal greeting – never one to assume that anyone would call just to chat; and he quickly explained Jones’ problems.

He clicked his tongue. “Not the first time I’ve helped him out this past year… a bit rash burning through his identities, that boy.”

“He’s still young. He’ll learn.“

“If you say so.”

Peter had always held that people deserved a second chance… and if they were caught, well, then they had learned a lesson.

That reminded him. “Does the name Special Agent Neal Caffrey ring a bell?”

“Caffrey… Caffrey… yes, I think so. He’s part of that White Collar department they built up a few years back. Why?”

“He paid us a visit, apparently to ask my opinion about a company I audited…”

“Do you think he is up to something?”

“I don’t think the CPA who only spent a few days at the company would be anyone’s first choice as a witness, so it’s possible. He was rather fishing, though – I don’t think he’s got anything specific in mind, and El was magnificent, as always.”

“Ah yes. The wonderful Elizabeth. Give her my regards, will you? And should you need anything, you can always call.”

“Of course. Now about Clinton –“

“Consider it done. Goodbye.”

And he hung up without another word.

“So are we worried about Neal?” El, who’d been listening, asked.

“Oh so now he’s _Neal_?”

“He’s kind of cute, in that charming rogue sort of way. Funny really when you consider his position. A bit like a naughty little school boy.”

“So you like naughty”.

“I do like my men a little naughty, yes” she teased him before leaning in for another kiss. “But honestly, do you think…”

“No, I don’t think he has any evidence at all… at the most he has a few suspicions, but I’ll be damned if you didn’t disprove all of them.”

“What can I say? I’m good.”

“Yes you are.”

He would always be glad that, after a few dates, he had taken the risk to tell her the truth; especially since it had quickly transpired (as she had told him giggling) that, wherever she worked, works with a dubious provenience tended to disappear one day and end up with their original or rightful owners, which was a direction he had then also decided to take his own work in now and then, with the added bonus that with many, the museums or collectors didn’t know to this day that they had been replaced. It wasn’t their fault that the owners of that one Egger-Lienz had been so happy they had gone to the press now, was it.

Satchmo came begging to be cuddled; he obliged. “And you did your part too, didn’t you? Not a chance a man with such a beautiful wife and nice dogey could do anything illegal, not a chance.”

He turned to El again. “Still, we should probably be careful. I don’t think anything can be traced back to me, but it’s a sign that Phillip knows who Caffrey is – means he’s good enough to be on his radar.”

“You mean like you were, once upon a time?”

“As a matter of fact yes, but for different reasons. I think I’ll try a few of my contacts tomorrow, just to find out what I can about him. It can’t hurt to have a few tricks up your sleeve.”

“And here I thought you always do.”

“Exactly, which is why I’m going to take this seriously.”

“My very own gentleman thief.”

“Oh yes, your very own” he drawled, drawing her closer.

The timer of the oven went off.

She smiled and pulled back, shaking her head. “Let’s have dinner. We can talk about desert later.”

He clearly was a very lucky man indeed.

* * *

The very next day, he set out to fulfil his plans. While he didn’t much like the man he was about to contact, he had his uses; and he didn’t know who Peter was, of course. He only knew him by a pseudonym.

“Mr. Buonarotti.”

He doubted he even knew why he had chosen that one, but that was probably for the best. “Agent Keller.”

Every agency, every firm even, had their bad apples once it got big enough, and of course the FBI was no exception. And Matthew Keller, always ready to accept bribes or fake evidence when needed, had quickly turned into an asset, once Peter and Diana had figured out he was about as straight-forward as a rainbow slinky.

“There is someone I would rather like to know more about… it’s another agent.”

* * *

“And, what are your plans for today?” Kate, who had come to spend the night despite their disagreement the day before (and it had been a very good night, if he said so himself) asked.

“Well, I am still checking out that CPA I told you about.”

“Oh, right, the man wit the thousand faces who somehow also lives a completely normal life yet has managed to put one of his pieces into every major museum here and on the continent?” she asked only slightly sarcastically.

“There’s something. I just don’t know what exactly but Peter Burke has something to hide. I know it.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Everyone but your boss”.

Vincent Adler was a well-known philanthropist who loved to flaunt his wealth when he wasn’t busy shoving it at people in the hope of making their lives better. Deep down, Neal knew that he was jealous – that he too wanted measured suits and champagne with every meal and Lamborghinis to drive – but he’d be damned if he admitted such even trio himself or, God forbid, Kate.

“Yeah, well, he can afford not to have any – in more ways than one.” She quickly kissed him. “I have to go anyway; another charity dinner to organise. I’m meeting with a new event planner – the last one was a disaster. See you!”

And with that, she skipped out of his flat.

He sighed. Maybe he should do it like Burke and go in for organized crime. He clearly came home to his wife on a regular basis instead of stealing a few moments in-between revolving doors from time to time.

There was nothing to do for it, however, but to soldier on.

* * *

The last thing he had expected today was the door to be thrown open when he’d barely arrived at the office and Mozzie storming in, waving his hands in the air. “Code Red! Code Red!”

He rolled his eyes; most of the time when his friend arrived like that, it meant that he’d found yet another piece of evidence that suggested the Queen of England was actually a lizard person –

However, all of those thoughts were quickly thrown out when he saw his expression-. No; something as actually wrong. “What is it?”

“June just called.”

June – their factotum from HRB – had been married to one of their most famous agents before he’d sadly passed away in a raid. She had, however, decided to stay on as the one who knew – well, everything there was to know about every agent who’d worked for them in the last thirty years. What she considered important usually was. “What did she say?” he asked, now lightly concerned after all

“You’ll never guess who demanded to see your file.”

“Who?” A half-suspicion that somehow, Peter Burke might have managed to get in darted through his mind, but that was nonsense. Of course it was.

“Agent Matthew Keller.”

A shiver ran down his spine. That was bad news indeed. Everyone knew what kind of person Keller was, but no one had as of yet managed to make anything stick. And if he wanted to see his file… “Did he get it?”

“June made up some excuse but even she can’t keep him off forever, and you know it.”

That was sadly true. Keller was pretty high-up – higher up than Neal, despite the fact that they’d started at the FBI at the same day and there had been a time when he would have proudly called him a friend, before he knew the truth – and there was little doubt in his mind that he would get his hands on all his files, if he wished to do so.

“What I don’t understand is what he wants with it” Mozzie said. “You’ve been as straight-laced as any agent can be, provided they work for the government” he regularly and conveniently forgot that he did as well whenever he talked himself into a rage “And why now of all times –“

It was then that he realized. “I went to see Burke.”

He had underestimated him – despite all his research, despite being the only one who had ever suspected him, he had vastly underestimated the man. If he knew enough to contact the one FBI agent who could give him all the information he needed…

“Are you sure about that? I _told_ you, he’s living his perfectly ordinary life…”

“Are you really telling me you have trouble believing a perfectly ordinary man would conspire with a rogue FBI agent?”

Mozzie huffed. “Well, when you put it like that, I’m afraid I cannot deny it, but still… that means he must have his fingers in a lot of pots.”

“Oh yes he must have a network of some kind.” In a way that was good news. Networks always had their weak spots – wasn’t Keller proof of that? They just had to figure out where his people were sitting, and who they could put pressure on.

“What really gets me how quickly he can act.”

“Well, someone who’s escaped notice for over ten years is bound to be quick on his feet.”

It was Neal himself who had been the first one to connect several of Burke’s deeds, in fact, and that just after he had meticulously compared the forgeries and realized they were vastly superior to anything he had seen before. There was a reason so many victims couldn’t say when their treasures had disappeared…. They simply hadn’t noticed for quite a while, until an expert had finally set his eyes on the work and noticed a slight discrepancy…

By now, he was half convinced that Burke put those there on purpose, to give people a chance to figure it out or to brag, he couldn’t say. “We need to get closer to Burke.”

“Yes, well, good luck without it looking like harassment, my friend. As far as we know, Peter Burke is an innocent citizen.”

“We just have to find a way in…” he muttered, more to himself than to Mozzie.


	4. Chapter 4

As it turned out, a way in was much easier to find than he had anticipated, even if it didn’t seem that way at first.

While his tried to figure out who Burke’s accomplices might be had hit a wall – yes, the CPA had an employee, but there was nothing whatsoever suspicious about Diana Berrigan – there were… other developments. 

A week after his talk with Mozzie, June had let him know that Keller now had access to all his files. It wasn’t as if he could prove he’d done anything wrong – mostly because he hadn’t – but that didn’t mean that it didn’t infuriate and worry him.

Kate, who’d noticed his bad mood, had decided to make dinner to try and make him feel better, and already she’d succeeded just the tiniest bit. At the very least, he told himself, he could show her that he appreciated her heartfelt gesture and try and put work to the side for now.

It was not to be.

In an attempt not to focus on his case or Matthew Keller, he had asked about her boss and how she was getting on with the charity event, and almost spat his drink when she brightly replied, “You have no idea how easy it is! I should have switched to Burke Premiere Events _years_ ago! Elizabeth is a treasure – Neal, what is wrong?”

For, despite his best attempts, he had now begun to cough.

She clapped his back until he had calmed down and was able to exclaim, “ _Burke Premiere Events_?”

“Yes, that’s Elizabeth’s –“

“She’s my suspect’s wife. Peter Burke. She’s his wife.”

Kate stared at him, then laughed. “Really? Elisabeth’s _husband_? She mentioned him about ten minutes into the conversation – kept doing it – and I’ve never heard of anyone less likely to be a criminal. He seems like the nicest, most decent man alive!”

And wasn’t that just the problem. Peter Burke was so damn decent that you either didn’t suspect him at all or thought anyone who did so a fool or a scoundrel – with Kate, it was clearly the later, since she appeared downright scandalized.

“I’ve got evidence.” He was slightly exaggerating, but he was also a bit put out by the fact that she’d rather believe a woman she’d spent two hours with at the most than him.

“If you say so” she answered, clearly still sceptical.

He had an idea. “Say, she wouldn’t have mentioned if her husband accompanies her to these sorts of things, would she?”

Her eyes narrowed. “As a matter of fact she did – joked she likes to show him off when it comes to new clients, it seems. I thought it was pretty adorable, if you ask me.”

He was very aware that he was supposed to ask her more, maybe about the event, but all his thoughts were centred on Peter Burke. “Do you think you could take me with you?”

She glared at him. “You know, it’s bad enough that normally you’d just want to take a bite out of the lifestyle of the rich and famous, but now you want to chase criminals while I’m working? And what is Mr. Adler supposed to think?”

“He never has to know. Plus, he quite likes me.”

“God knows why” she muttered, but now she was smiling. “Do you think you’ll have to arrest him?”

“I highly doubt it. I’d need good, hard evidence for that.”

But he would get closer to Burke, and that would be something…

“Which nickname did you give him again?”

“Bonds Dickey.”

“Why Bonds Dickey?”

He shrugged. “Punt on a famous Yankee player. He faked those bank bonds last year to get back at the Lehmann Brothers, basically, and one of his first big gigs was Baseball related.”

“So you think Bonds Dickey is going to show up at the event I am busy organizing in order to do his wife a favour, be absolutely charming and – wait, does he know you?”

“We’ve met, yes.”

“Oh my God. This is going to be so much fun – “

He wasn’t quite sure about that, but he guessed they’d see.

* * *

“So let me get this straight. You decided that it would be a good idea to accompany Kate so you can happily devour canapés and make small talk with Peter Burk, your number one suspect for Bonds Dickey.”

“Yes, Mozzie. Is there a better way to get close to him?”

“Well there is the usual way, meaning collecting evidence and then charging him, maybe make a deal so he’ll tell you all he knows…”

“If you couldn’t find anything…”

“I’m working on it! So what do you want to do? Become his best friend?”

“If he sees me as a friend, he might let his guard down”.

“And do what? Start forging something while sipping champagne in front of Vincent Adler? You do know it doesn’t count if he writes his name on it big enough.”

“All I want is a chance to watch him for a while.”

“And what does Kate think of your _chance_ to impress your criminal crush?”

He rolled his eyes. “She knows everything – well, not the details of what he has done – but still – and she doesn’t have any problems with it.”

“Let’s hope her rich boss doesn’t either, should he ever find out what you get up to on his parties.”

He said nothing to that, considering it better this way.

* * *

The party was in full swing by the time Neal arrived, Kate having told him that she’d have more than enough to do beforehand, so it wouldn’t matter whether he’d be there or not.

As always, he suppressed a sigh of envy as he saw the tables and the food they provided. His work might have been honest, but it didn’t pay nearly enough to make him think he’d ever to afford such luxuries.

“Hey” Kate greeted him.

“Hey yourself” he kissed her. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, very well. Mr. Adler seems to be satisfied; and you won’t believe it, but Peter actually arrived with Elizabeth, to help where he could.”

 _Peter_?

“And he really _is_ rather lovely. I can’t imagine him being a criminal –“

“Kate” he hissed.

“Relax, it’s too loud here anyway.”

That was probably true, and so he prepared himself to quip back when a voice he already knew far too well for only having heard it once gaily announced, “Special Agent Caffrey, what a pleasure seeing you here!”

* * *

At first, he could scarcely believe his luck. He was just going through the file Keller had sent him – thankfully, he had never met the man face to face, and certainly didn’t plan to do so, he struck him as rather bad and disreputable company – when El brought him a glass of wine and sat down next to him, nursing her own. “Caffrey’s file?”

He nodded., “Nothing too unusual – seems to have a good solve rate, certainly higher than FBI average. Tenacious, from what I can gather. And here’s a note from Keller – guess what he’s working on currently. Apparently, I have a nickname.”

“Please tell me it’s not something like James Bonds, I’ll never hear the end of it –“

“Bonds Dickey.”

“That’s worse!” She was laughing as she said, though.

“Well, I feel honoured. And here’s another thing from Keller – seems he has a girlfriend. Kate Moreau. And oh, she works for –“

“Vincent Adler” El finished for him.

He frowned. “How –“

“You remember the new client I told you about?” she got up and got her own file. “He wants to organize another charity event; I’ve already met Kate to plan it.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Nice girl.”

“She must be, or she wouldn’t be dating such an upright citizen like an FBI agent, would she.”

“Are you saying I’m not nice?”

“I’m saying you” he leaned over to kiss her neck “are exciting” he kissed another spot a little above the first “and amazing” he nibbled her earlobe “and quite frankly, more than I ever deserve.”

“Saved just in time” she smiled. “So, you think he might become a threat?”

“If he ever gets evidence, which I don’t think he will… well, he just might. But even then, you know I have my ways…”

“ _We_ have our ways. And don’t forget all of our friends.”

They had indeed collected quite a few of them over the years.

“All in all, he’s… interesting.” After all, he was the first agent to ever even get a hint as to who he was – and that was impressive in its own right.

“Oh interesting… should I be worried”

“Don’t worry, honey, no one’s ever going to even come close to being as wonderful as you are.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“Oh, really? Because there are a few different things I could tell you…”

“I can’t wait…”

Satchmo chose that moment to remind them he hadn’t had his dinner yet; El moved away to comply while laughing.

And anyway, they later finished their conversation much to their mutual content.

* * *

He’d come early with El, of course, to lend a hand where needed.

She wasted no time introducing him to Kate Moreau, her eyes sparkling. “Kate, this is my husband Peter. Peter, this is Kate, Mr. Adler’s PA.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Right back at you, Mr. Burke. I’ve heard so much about you…”

That could mean two things, as he well knew; perhaps Caffrey had talked, perhaps not. Either way he knew just how to react. “Just good things, I hope.”

“Certainly _impressive_ enough.”

Alright, so Caffrey had spoken about him. But that in itself was not cause for concern... especially since her smile was genuine, and her body language suggested that she liked them well enough. “So, El, what do you need me to do?”

“The tables over there need to be moved…”

And he was off.

The party was in full swing by the time Caffrey arrived; whether he didn’t want to draw attention or was attempting to be fashionably late, Peter couldn’t say, but still – showtime.

He caught El’s eyes and winked. She grinned and waved.

“Special Agent Caffrey, what a pleasure seeing you here!” Might as well slightly overplay it.

“Mr. Burke.”

“Peter, please.”

“Neal” he replied obviously a little reluctantly, shaking his hand. But that was just to be expected; most of these young officers of the law loved being called by their titles. “What brings you here, Peter?”

And yet he could bet he had known and expected him to be here. There were some things you were bound to notice after a while on the job. “My wife’s the event planner.”

“Oh, so she’s been working with my girlfriend then. Kate Moreau.”

“Yes, we got introduced. She’s lovely. Seems we are both rather lucky, doesn’t it.”

“Most definitely.”

Hm. There could be no doubt that he was genuinely fond of Kate, but there seemed to be some lingering tensions there. While Peter filed it away under useful knowledge, he already knew that he probably wouldn’t take advantage of the fact. He usually felt that something like this was too personal to be exploited. “So, do you know Kate’s boss or are you just here for the free champagne?” he asked casually, takin two glasses and handing one over.

“I’m always up for free champagne, but I do know Mr. Adler personally.”

“Well, you’ve got the advantage of me, then. I’m just here as the trophy husband… El likes to show me off to new clients.”

“I can introduce you if you want; I still have to say hello anyway.”

Peter wondered if he knew he sounded slightly condescending, then decided that that was probably the point. For a federal agent, there was a bit too much self-importance there; then again, with his solving rate, it was probably only normal that he was a little too self-confident.

Not that that would change anything. He had no intention of getting captured.

“That’d be very nice.”

And so, they made their way over to Adler, who was affable if a little preoccupied (he was just busy entertaining two hundred guests, so that probably had something to do with it).

“Wonderful location for it. And, of course, there’s always the possibility that a few of the bills might be tax-deductible. Sorry, that’s just force of habit – ”

He perked up at that. “You know about such –“

“I’m a CPA, Mr. Adler.”

“Really? You see, my next audit’s due in…”

Seemed like he was on the way on getting another commission. As an added bonus.

He smiled and asked for details.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like, leave a comment, please? :)


	5. Chapter 5

Neal Caffrey would have freely admitted to everyone that he was a charmer – and furthermore, that he had actually cultivated said charm carefully over the years; he knew how to talk to people, how to get their attention, tell them what they wanted or expected to hear. It was a talent that had served him innumerable times over the years and saved him more than once in dire situations.

But here was the thing. There was something to be said for charm – but also something to be said for people simply _liking_ you.

And Peter Burke clearly had a knack to make the latter happen. Neal could only watch as he effortlessly made his way through the room, threw in a joke here, led a serious discussion there, went to help his wife out, checked whether there were enough drinks, undoubtedly cased the place, one never knew what opportunities might arise, after all…

“I’m not at all convinced you’re right about Peter” Kate whispered. “I mean, look at him – the life of the party.”

Yes, he was, but in an unobtrusive, friendly way. Just now, he had joined Elizabeth again and was talking to Vincent Adler while gently laying a hand on the small of her back.

“That makes it easier for him” he argued. “People just take one look and go, _Oh, he’s a nice guy, wouldn’t harm a fly_.”

“According to you, he never has harmed anyone, even if he should happen to be Bonds Dickey.”

“You tell that to the rich collectors and the rich people whose earnings he grabbed.”

“Please, as if you had any kind of pity for those people.”

He hadn’t, and that was what made this entire case so frustrating. After all, who wanted to be the Sheriff of Nottingham, up against Robin Hood? He wasn’t about to admit it, though.

“And really, he and Elizabeth are so very happy together – if he’s done anything, she knows it. She has to.”

And yet, it certainly hadn’t seemed that way when he had talked to her. But didn’t Kate have a point? They were incredibly close, they had a dog, they were clearly very much in love, even after ten years of marriage…

Had he discounted her too quickly?

He went to grab another glass of champagne.

A few moments later, Peter Burke was at his side. How he had found him so quickly in the full room, especially considering he’d just been moving away from him, he couldn’t say. “Are you enjoying the party, agent?”

He decided to be affable. “Neal’s _really_ quite enough. I’m here as a private citizen, after all.”

He smiled – again that artless, friendly smile that undoubtedly had given numerous people a false sense of security. “Not exactly my idea of having a good time, but it’s El’s job, so here I am.”

“You don’t like parties?”

“Not exactly – or at least, not this kind of parties.” He indicated the assembly with a wave of his hand. “I mean, here they are – the rich, the beautiful, and those that are either one or the other; and a few people who managed to sneak in even if they are neither. And I know it’s supposed to be about charity, but how many here do you think actually give one single damn about however Mr. Adler wants to help? You know what this is? This – this is what gets you into trouble.”

Neal frowned, not quite catching his meaning.

“This – live rich, drink champagne every day, have parties in skyscrapers and meet supermodels… it’s all just a fantasy, a fantasy so many people would do everything for. This is the start of those something-for-nothing schemes that lead to the frauds that get people locked up.”

Was he –

Yes.

He was actually answering Neal’s questions as to why someone who could do the things he did and get away with it was happy to live in suburbia, showing off his completely ordinary existence to the world.

It was because he _liked_ it. Because he actually considered this – where they were now, and something Neal had to admit to always have been aspiring to – dangerous and unnatural, and he’d much rather be walking his dog to the neighbourhood BBQ now, thank you very much.

He would say that – Peter Burke was underneath it all damn interesting.

“Just because you have money doesn’t mean you’ll end up in prison” he said, staring him straight in the eyes, but again, he didn’t betray himself in the least.

“Of course not; I dare say the best get away with it; but there’s a huge difference between getting away with something and being at peace, isn’t there? Imagine that, always looking over your shoulder, constantly worried that someone might sweep in and take it all from you… No, I’d rather stay exactly where I am and know this is the life I have built for myself.”

A little cocky despite it all, though, apparently absolutely sure he wouldn’t get caught. _You just wait and see, buddy,_ he vowed to himself. _You wait and see._

“But who am I telling this, ha?” he jovially punched his arm. “I bet you’ve seen enough in your line of work. Some more champagne?”

* * *

“I have to say” Kate announced that evening as she kicked off her high heels, “Whether or not he’s Bonds Dickey, Peter is absolutely lovely. Elisabeth’s made quite a catch.”

“So you really think she has his complete confidence?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Just an idea” he mumbled. After all, if Kate was right, then the wife had to know… and if she did, well, there were reasons to believe she would try and profit from all of this…

* * *

“Mozzie” he called out as soon as he stepped into the office the next day, “I need the exact timeline for every art forgery we’ve ascribed to Bonds Dickey.”

“And a very good morning to you, too. Thank you, yes, I am very well today.”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, Mozzie, I have an idea.”

“As if I couldn’t tell. You’ll bring us all into the grave with your ideas one day…”

He didn’t listen as he very well knew he’d soon get another lecture.

* * *

“He has to _know_ I’m unto him” Neal once more defended having spent most of the evening in Burke’s company; it seemed that all of Mozzie’s worries had only amplified by his explanation of how the event had gone.

“Are you sure? Because what I see is a guy happily dancing around and forging stuff left and right, and you’re trying to follow him and pick up the pieces.”

“Mozzie…”

“Ever thought that maybe warning him like this might not be the brightest idea? But of course you haven’t because you’ve got the impulse control of a _child_ …”

“Mozzie…”

“And really what better way to get close to a suspect but let your girlfriend make friends with his wife…”

“Mozzie! That’s the point! Kate thinks that they’re much too close for her not to know, and there’s something that has always troubled me about his art forgeries. Most of those we see – they’re failed artists themselves, right? And they feel bitter because of it, so they dabble into crime to prove they’re just that good. But here’s the thing – the first time we ever noticed Bonds Dickey’s work, he’d managed to nick a Mickey Mantle card from a rich asshole, which might have been done seven to fifteen years ago. Second time was some minor bank bonds. And we wouldn’t even have connected them if it hadn’t been for the craftmanship. And yet, he’s a CPA, who has never spared creating his own pieces a thought, it seems”

“So what exactly are you saying?”

“His wife used to work for an art gallery when they met. Maybe she inspired him to start with the art forgeries.”

“Like Bonnie and Clyde, committing crimes together”

“Could be. We need to go through the timeline again.”

Mozzie still looked sceptical, but since this was his natural state, Neal didn’t worry too much about it.

* * *

“I have to say, yesterday’s party went off without a hitch” El said.

“Well of course it did. You organized it.”

She mock-glared at him. “Not that I didn’t notice you prancing around Neal.”

“I wasn’t prancing around. We just had a nice little chat as two men who are interested in many of the same topics, that is all.”

“And what topics would that be?”

“For example, how lucky we are. Kate is rather lovely, isn’t she?”

“Oh yes, they make a cute couple. And she’s very nice, too, and competent – I can’t tell you how invaluable a good PA is during things like this.”

He nodded, having heard enough horror stories from his wife to know exactly what she was talking of. “And I got a few possible jobs out of it. You know the rich and famous – mention the word taxes and they start to sweat.”

“Do you think there might be something interesting there?”

He shrugged. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

It was her turn to nod, her eyes sparkling.

God, how he loved her.

“Just be careful when you see pretty federal agents lurking around.”

“Oh, so he _is_ pretty.”

“Well, if Kat’s lovely, Neal is allowed to be pretty.”

“Alright, alright, that’s fair” he kissed her then finished his coffee. “Anyway, I’m free this morning so I’ll go to the studio for a bit.”

“Of course.”

* * *

As he was carefully cleaning up a small lithography of Rudolf von Alt’s – at least as far as anyone who wasn’t an expert in Austrian art of that period knew – he contemplated Neal Caffrey. That was a young man with a future, if he had sense enough to understand that and not chase after riches, as he perhaps wished to do, given how he’d taken in yesterday’s amusements.

There had been absolutely no hypocrisy in what he had told him – he firmly believed that one should know where one belonged, and that too much of a good thing could end up being very bad for you in the long run; and anyway, he wouldn’t have changed his life with the most beautiful, clever woman he had ever laid eyes on for anything.

Neal Caffrey, though… he had to be, what, about fifteen years younger than him? Despite being well on his way to becoming a legend, according to his file, he was probably hoping that this – that _his_ – would be the case that finally, truly put him on the map.

He would say this for him – he was the first one who’d ever come to suspect Peter. Not that he’d be able to prove anything, but it was still nice to feel recognised every once in a while.

Yes, there was a fine young man with a happy future in front of him, if only he would keep on the straight and narrow… or Peter’s slightly curvy path. Well; they would see how it would all end.

For now, he concentrated back on his work.

* * *

“So, if we assume the card is the first big thing he ever did, that means he didn’t start out with art forgery”.

“Told you.”

Mozzie still looked sceptical. “Yes, but we can’t be sure. A man such as this could easily have forged half the da Vincis in the world without us noticing.”

“Guy’s too clever to do something like that, Mozzie. Nothing one would notice at first glance.”

He was most definitely sure of that. No, Peter Burke would not commit some flashy, easy-to-detect sort of crime; if anything, he’d let him know that he wasn’t for that sort of life, hadn’t he?

To think he’d found the one high profile case who would instantly deny that he was such a thing if caught.

“Fine. So you really believe he only dabbles into that sort of thing because of his wife?”

“Kate put me up to it” he explained carefully his girlfriend’s feelings that the Burkes were one of the happiest married couples she had ever seen and that there were no secrets between them.

Mozzie’s answer surprised him. “I think I need to meet this woman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just couldn't resist the temptation to quote the Pilot ;). Comments please?


	6. Chapter 6

Mozzie rarely ventured out to do interviews, and they had all agreed it was a good thing. Not that he was incapable of asking questions; but it might be for the best to keep his particular talents where he “could put them to the best use”, as one of their superiors had once expressed his thoughts rather memorably.

Right now, they didn’t even have a good excuse to want to talk to Mrs. Burke, as Mozzie was well aware; but Neal knew from experience that there was little he could do if his friend put his mind to it and so he did what he usually did in these kinds of situation and called June.

June, of course, indulged Mozzie, but was cautious about it. “Don’t worry; I’ll put him down as doing some external work this afternoon. No one needs to know.”

“Especially Burke” he said simply.

“Oh, really, you don’t think he’ll guess immediately?”

“Why should he? We both know Mozzie will find some kind of excuse.”

Yes they did; but sadly, anything he got from whatever he was about to do would be inadmissible in court.

Then again, thy needed something, _anything_ , and if they only got one clue out of it…

And so, he walked down the street to the corner they usually met up when doing something the Bureau shouldn’t know about.

One of the few places in New York with no street cameras, for one thing.

Mozzie was already, looking like –

“Really? Now you’re the creepy cable guy?”

He looked offended. “I am doing my best with the limited resources I have.”

“You’re about to cut someone’s cable so you can illegally install a bug” he said because of course he was.

“Well… let’s just say I am about to use one of my many talents to obtain evidence.”

“Which we won’t be able to –“

“Special Agent Caffrey, I sincerely hope you’re not about to tell me that you are the shining beacon of integrity within the bureau.”

And since there was nothing he could say to that, he kept silent.

* * *

Much as she loved being in the midst of things, there was something about working from home; she could get the washing done when it was her turn, for one, and actually cook a proper dinner for when Peter got home.

And with her calendar for the next few weeks being rather full, she enjoyed the somewhat free time of being able to name her own hours all the more.

Until the phone rang.

She hadn’t even noticed the cable had been cut, since she had yet to turn on the TV, but apparently the power company had made a mistake.

Or had they?

After quickly confirming with the neighbours that the cable was indeed not working, she decided to be careful – she wasn’t married to Peter for nothing – but let the man proceed. She’d just have to keep a close eye on the guy, that was all.

And so, when he arrived and politely introduced himself as “Mr. Haversham” (another red flag – why should a repair guy use a name? it was something Peter had taught her early on; names gave someone a certain aura of credibility – one only had to know how to use them) she smiled and offered to make them both coffee.

And really, he was not bad company at all; she quicky discovered that he was rather prone to believe in conspiracy theories (how ironic, all things considered) and wasn’t afraid to try and persuade others to do the same, but he was still much politer than many of those she met in the course of her work.

El had been the one to insist on installing mirrors in all the strategic places in their house when Peter had at first attempted to separate his private and his professional life; but she’d told him she knew exactly what kind of man she was marrying, and that she had done so with her eyes wide open (not to mention that she was more than grateful for all the work he’d done restoring pieces of art to those they actually belonged to, morally if not legally) and that therefore, she thought they should take every precaution.

And oh – there it was – he was installing a bug in their cable box. Well; so far so good; she’d have to be careful and let her husband know at the earliest opportunity.

The question was, first and foremost, who was behind this; and it wasn’t difficult to figure out it had to be that Neal Caffrey from the FBI. No other agency had so far shown the least interest in Peter, and if any competitor had tried to come snooping, they would have been warned, if not by Diana, then by another one of their contacts. Yes, it was most likely the FBI; and now that they knew…

She took Satchmo on a walk and called Peter from one of their burn phones they kept for security reasons.

“Yes?”

“Hello hon, it’s me. There was an FBI man in our house… I’m afraid he bugged our cable.”

Her husband, she well knew, wasn’t prone to swearing, but she heard him biting back a curse as he gathered his thoughts. “Is everything – “

“Oh, he was perfectly pleasant, I assure you. Introduced himself as Haversham – have you ever heard of him?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’ll try our contact in the FBI, see what _he_ knows.”

She understood the obvious reluctance in his voice; El herself didn’t think much of the rogue agent Peter was now and then forced to use; but if he got them the information they needed… “For what it’s worth, it’s just one little bug. I made sure of that.”

“Of course you did. Still – what right do they have, coming to my house and trying to listen to our private conversations?”

She could have said quite a bit abbot that – after all, Peter, or rather, _they_ did commit crimes regularly, although she would always stand by the fact that they were helping people by making sure their rightful property was returned to them rather than languishing away in some rich man’s collections where they would never see the light of day. So, she simply replied, “They certainly don’t have a warrant or anything like that. Otherwise, he’d hardly have pretended to be a cable repair guy.”

“He probably dropped by on Caffrey’s orders. He did strike me as someone who would be happy to bend a few rules if it brings results.”

“So… I guess we leave the bug in for a few days?” she asked.

“It would be for the best, El. We’ll have to be a bit careful.”

“Does that mean we have ton confine the naughty talk to the bedroom or we get to traumatize a few FBI agents?”

He laughed. “Oh, I think as long as we don’t talk about any of our extracurricular activities, we’re good.”

“Well, that answers my question. Love you.”

“Love you too”.

“Your daddy is getting quite a bit of attention these days” she told Satchmo as she hung up, “Good thing he has us to take care of him, wouldn’t you say?”

* * *

Well; seemed like Neal Caffrey had just upped the stakes. Not that it was in any way legal, or that he would be able to use any of it, even if they were to incriminate themselves; and he’d have to be careful when he extracted the bug in a few days’ time, to make it seem like it had simply stopped working instead of being found out and destroyed; but all in all, it was a commendable move, and showed that the agent had not been impressed with his appearance of a law-abiding citizen at the charity event.

He was starting to think he might be an opponent worth having.

Really, all things considered, too bad he _was_ to be an opponent; he might have been infinitely useful as a partner, and already he liked him much more than Keller.

But no – early on in his career, he’d sworn to himself that, while sadly Peter Burke would never be completely on the right side, he’d certainly never tempt anyone to leave it, and he intended to honour that oath. After all – his opinion hadn’t changed; he still thought that Caffrey might be one of those who were easily tempted to fly to close too the sun; but, if properly directed…

He shook his head and concentrated back on the file on his desk, deciding against going to Keller right away. For now, the most important thing was that they didn’t give anything away, and then get rid off the mike; luckily, Clinton would be more than up for the job…

* * *

“Nothing?”

He couldn’t believe it. For the past week, the bug had been in the Burkes’ home; and all they had to show for it were talks of taxes and walking the dog and _What’s for dinner, hon_? As If they were listening in on the most normal couple in the world.

Mozzie, who seemed to have been utterly charmed by Elizabeth Burke, for once in his life didn’t seem concerned at all. “I’ve gone through the recordings myself; nothing you wouldn’t expect from any other couple before it stopped working –“

“ _What do you mean, it stopped working_?”

“It happens, mon capitaine. Sometimes, despite our best intentions, the works of man fail –“

“Nonsense. Burke must have found it.”

“Didn’t sound like it, from what I heard. They were talking normally when it went out.”

As if that had to mean anything. With a man like Peter Burke, nothing would surprise him.

But still – he could not deny that they were at an impasse; despite every bone in his body telling him he had the right man, with no evidence and just a few coincidences to point Burke’s way, they were at an impasse.

And then Joseph Hayes was murdered.

The investigation into Wesley Kent’s Novice had been steadily moving forward; as a matter of fact, Neal had rather been expecting a breakthrough sooner rather than later; and then suddenly, Novice’s R&D specialist lay dead in the streets and the microprocessor he had been carrying around with him was gone.

No one even wasted their breath questioning whether he might have dropped from natural causes. It would have been too much of a coincidence.

And yet, as unpleasant a development as Joseph Hayes’ murder was, it led to something very interesting.

He was in his office, going through the papers Mozzie had assembled and wondering who of Novice’s competitors might be desperate enough to do something like this when Alex called up. “Hey. Got a Peter Burke here; says he needs to speak with you.”

What? Peter Burke, walking right into his office? With every respect for his faculties, Neal wouldn’t have judged him capable of that; and he quickly called Mozzie on his cell phone.

“Keep the line open so you can hear everything.”

“I might drop by –“

“Better not risk it, just in case Mrs. Burke mentioned what you looked like.”

“Fine.”

It was at this moment that Alex, bringing Burke with her, knocked and he quickly put his phone away. “Mr. Burke. This is a surprise.”

He shook his hand, looking rather grave, and didn’t correct his use of his last name – business, then; but what could possibly –

“Agent Caffrey, I heard about the death of Joseph Hayes; and I think it is of the outmost importance that you should know a few things.”

To say he was surprised would have been an understatement. Burke had completed that audit weeks ago – so why he was no longer in any way connected to Novice; and how –

“I read his name in the paper and just knew I had to come in.” He shook his head. “Such a tragedy. A very polite young man, and very gifted, I’ve been assured.”

“And you think you have information that could help us?”

“I really do… perhaps I should start with the fact that he and your helpful informant Jessica Breslin were in a relationship.”


	7. Chapter 7

This, he couldn’t help but think after he’d recovered from his surprise, was his just deserts for having ignored almost every other case in order to chase after Burke – that said Burke should have to come in and tell him what he ought to have known already! “Are you absolutely certain?”

He nodded. “When doing the audit… well, I noticed they’d been sharing a hotel room when on business trips; however, since they were doing no harm… and we all know young love… I saw no reason to mention it to Mr. Kent.”

And once again, Bonds Dickey had chosen the genuinely decent thing to do simply because he wanted to.

“I take it she hasn’t mentioned their relationship?”

She certainly hadn’t been questioned about the murder so far, because she’d been the witness for the corporate espionage… God, he really had let things slide. Maybe Kate was right about his obsession.

“No, she didn’t, but thank you, Mr. Burke. This is very interesting information.”

“I am always glad to help the authorities.”

Neal had lied often enough in his life, but this – and the worst part was that he was pretty sure part of that statement wasn’t even a lie to begin with; no, in this case, he _was_ glad to help out. 

And he quickly provided the motive for such eagerness, as well, glancing at the file, then shaking his head. “Murder” he muttered, clearly disgusted, “To simply snuff out a life like that…”

And Neal was reminded that he had never harmed another, never drawn a weapon, never hit someone, not even when he’d had to escape quickly and efficiently.

It seemed he was seated in front of a man of morals, as strange as it sounded.

“I mean, of course people tend to doctor the books a little bit, see if they can get away with it. I’m used to that – and really, a little bit of fraud… but this” he shook his head again to show just how utterly he condemned the decision to cut Hayes’ life short. “I sincerely hope you’ll find whoever did this. And if I can be of service, please let me know.”

“I will, Mr. Burke.”

They shook hands and he left soon afterwards, Mozzie almost immediately coming over. “Well, isn’t the suit a model citizen?”

“Mozzie” he said tiredly, “You are aware that technically _we_ are the suits, right?”

“You’re just saying that because the Man got to you, and I assure you, he’ll never do that to me.”

Again, pointing out that they were the Man would probably lead to nothing, so instead he asked, “What do you think?”

“It is a lead, and he was clearly desirous that we should get it; but as to anything else… He seems to like you, though, mon frère.”

Yes; Neal himself, at Adler’s event, had gotten the strong impression that, against all odds, the man he was desperate to put behind bars _did_ like him, and talking to him; and furthermore, as evidenced by the scene they had just witnessed, it wasn’t just about playing with danger and enjoying doing so.

“Anyway, so Joseph Hayes and Jessica Breslin. What do you think?”

“We need to interview her”.

“Most definitely. Let’s start with that” he decided, trying to put Peter Burke out of his mind for now.

* * *

“Hey, hon. How did it go?”

El had been nothing but supportive when he had communicated to her that he should tell the FBI what he knew; after all, a young man was dead; and so, he wasn’t surprised that was the first thing she asked upon picking up the phone.

“As well as could be expected. Like I thought, Miss Breslin hadn’t told them about her and Mr. Hayes – either she was worried, or scared, or it was out of habit of concealing their relationship – and it’s a first step at least.”

“I hope it helps.”

“Me too” he agreed. Money was one thing – money and art, really; money could be made again, art could be re-purchased (or at least a good copy of it) – but life? To take the one thing no one could replace; and for the worst motive of all, too, nothing but greed?

“Do you think he’s still suspicious?”

“Oh, most definitely. He had someone listen in to our conversation”. He couldn’t even say how he knew; but after all these years, he had developed certain instincts. “By the way, I turned around when the lift came; and I’m pretty sure I spied your cable guy slipping into Caffrey’s office. Fits your description to a T.”

Neither of them pretended to be surprised about it.

“And?” she asked eagerly instead. “Do you have a theory?”

He laughed. “I’m not going to do all their work for them”. Although, given how and when the murder had taken place, it felt like an inside job… and well, considering what was going on at Novice’s, there was an obvious suspect…

Well, he would put it out of his mind for now, but there was no reason not to give Caffrey another hint if the need arose. It would be far from the first time he had helped out the authorities when he felt it the right thing to do. 

* * *

Having decided that it might be more pleasant for Miss Breslin to have a woman ask her rather delicate questions – plus the fact that, upon seeing someone female with her, many would not assume that she worked for the FBI, sad as it was – Neal had decided to send Alex in; and so, he was sitting on a park bench, watching them talk from a distance. She had stopped her during her lunch break, just in case the culprit was also working at Novice.

After they’d said goodbye, Alex walked up and sat down to him, looking cool as a cucumber.

“And?” he asked, carelessly studying the newspaper he had bought for this purpose only.

“She admits that she and Hayes were dating, but is adamant that she doesn’t know who killed him. I believe her; she’s desperate enough that she would tell us.”

“Anything else?”

She shook her head. “She said Joseph was worried about something the last few days before he died, and that he claimed he was being followed.”

That was something, at least.

And yet not enough. They’d need more than that if they ever wanted so much as obtain a warrant in order to properly search Novice, let alone figure out who had had Hayes killed.

“We need an inside man” he decided.

And he already knew who he wanted that man to be.

* * *

“So let me get this straight” his boss, Curtis Hagen, drawled. “You spent years running after Bonds Dickey, believe you’ve found him, bury me under requests to have the CPA you think is our notorious criminal followed and whatnot, and now – now you want to work with him?”

“He’s our best shot, sir. He knows the firm, he knows the premises, and Kent already offered him a job. We wouldn’t have to build any legend at all; he could simply say that he’s changed his mind.”

A raised eyebrow; he knew him well enough to learn from it that Hagen was highly sceptical of his plan. “And this is solely so you can ensure you’ll catch Hayes’ killer?”

“Burke might give himself away” he acquiesced. After all, deep down, the man was a con man; and who knew what he might be driven to, when playing an act for the FBI itself? It might prove too much of a temptation to be especially sneaky and clever; and all they needed was one little slip-up, one chink in his armour…

“If you say so” he said, clearly still not convinced.

“Look, whatever Peter Burke is or is not, there is one thing he most definitely is: a damn good CPA, and one Kent would be eager to have higher up in his firm sooner rather than later. And he already seems to trust him. If there is something fishy going on, he might tell him. It would be much more likely than Kent suddenly deciding to share something with someone new, someone we’d have to invent first.”

“And you think Peter Burke would agree – especially if he is Bonds Dickey? Knowing that you suspect him? Believing that you’re after him?”

“I don’t think he’d be able to resist the temptation.”

Neal wished he could have felt as confident in that as he pretended to be; but Peter Burke rather struck him as someone who would be as likely to resist such a temptation as to yield to it; but if it got Hagen on his side…

“Fine. But you make sure he doesn’t hear or see anything that could cause him to run, and whatever happens, I am holding you personally responsible, do you hear?”

It was as good a permission as he was going to get from his boss, so he acquiesced.

* * *

“Neal. So I hear you’re desperate enough to try and make your number one suspect a CI?”

“No, Matthew” he replied as patiently as he could, “I am simply trying to get an inside man, and Burke is the best one for the hob.”

“If you say so… not my head on the block.”

He rolled his eyes as his former friend strolled away.

* * *

Peter had not often had cause to laugh when dealing with Matthew Keller – something about him continued to make his skin crawl, and he was doubly glad he’d always kept his true identity from him – but when he got the text on his burn phone, he simply had to laugh.

They were both working from home today, so El could immediately inquire what prompted this reaction.

“Look at this” he passed her the phone. “Since I am interested in Neal Caffrey, Keller apparently thought it prudent that I should be informed of all the gossip that comes with it.”

She raised her head to look at him. “He wants to make you a CI?”

He shrugged. “It might just be a rumour – after all, I went to see him, and you know how law officers are – little better than old ladies when it comes to supposing things are true because they thought of them once; but still – it might not be a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“Might give me time to find out what he knows”.

“And if he knows nothing?”

“Then” he grinned at her, “It’s going to be a lot of fun.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“You like me that way” he reminded her.

She kissed him lightly. “Yes I do; and well, you’re right – nothing’s decided yet.”

But that very evening, it _was_ decided. Caffrey called on their house phone and requested that he might visit them that night; and he happily acquiesced.

All of this was, after all, rather fascinating.

* * *

Caffrey, he would say that much, came immediately to the point. “Mr. Burke – Peter – we are still investigating Joseph Hayes’ death, but feel that it would be infinitely easier if we had an inside man.”

“I wouldn’t think the FBI would find it hard to procure one.”

He had already dodged several of those undercover agents in his career; and even had to admit that some had come rather close to becoming a danger.

“Yes, but we think that it would be rather preferable to have someone who Mr. Kent already trusts…”

“And so you thought of me?” he said lightly. “Well – it has a certain logic to it – he did say that Is should call if I ever change my mind.”

“And could I persuade you to do so, at least for a little while?”

“What would I be looking for?”

“Anything Joseph Hayes was working on – maybe the prototype, maybe something else – or hiding that might have led to his death. And Miss Breslin, of course, trusts you as well, so you should have her help.”

“Look at me, El” he turned to his wife. “You married James Bond after all.”

“I’m sure you’d look very fetching in one of his suits” was all she said, her eyes sparkling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to use Company Man because it's the episode that gave me this idea in the first place.


	8. Chapter 8

Peter would say this: being actually sanctioned to play someone for once was rather entertaining.

“I can’t tell you how glad I am you accepted my offer, Peter” Kent grinned at him.

“Well, the wife wants a new pool, you know how it is.”

He grabbed his shoulder to jovially squeeze it. “Then let’s make sure she gets it at the earliest opportunity. Now, you’ll be pleased to hear that we fixed the small irregularities we found…”

“Always good to hear” he agreed.

“If any others may present themselves, I am sure that with an experienced CPA of your standing, we can deal with them quickly and efficiently.”

“Oh, most definitely.”

“Excellent. Now, would you like to join me in my daily vice? We do have cause to celebrate, after all.”

This time, Peter couldn’t help but indulge, although he had done his best to avoid doing so while doing the audit.

And really, more time with Kent might be just what he needed.

As soon as they were seated and sipping their Armagnac, he began talking. “Now, Peter, I don’t know if you happened to read it in the papers, but there’s been a death… we lost one of our best men, Joseph Hayes.”

“Yes I read about him – I think I met him. R & D specialist, wasn’t he?”

“You have an excellent memory”.

“Comes with the job. Seemed a very bright young man, from what I can recall. A shame.”

“Especially because the prototype he was carrying with him was stolen as well. No, I don’t mean to sound heartless – what happened to Joseph is terrible – but a functioning prototype! At the moment, it may be God knows where, being sold to God knows whom.”

“What kind of prototype, if I may be so curious?”

“Of course not. I do hope you, with your expertise, may interest yourself in everything that concerns Novice.”

And probably cook the books just a tad, that’s what you mean, do you? Peter thought. He knew the type – knew very well why Kent had wanted someone like him; it never harmed to have a little money on the side, nor someone to take care of it and smooth things over.

“It was a next-gen quantum microprocessor. It’s a –“

“Tool for binary code-breaking” Peter interrupted him. “You would be surprised how many things I’ve come across in my work.”

“Duly noted.”

And indeed, the briefing Neal had given him had been more than thorough; in fact, he should probably tone it down a little, lest he appear too well informed.

But as of now, Kent only seemed to see a man who would be infinitely useful in front of him, and talked accordingly. “Our greatest fear is, of course, that the prototype should be sold by someone else – although it would already be bad enough if it was to be exploited!”

“And it is quite certain that it was… near completion?” He’d almost said functional despite this being supposed to be a secret – but then, he’d talked himself out of many a worse situation. He simply had to stay calm.

“Oh yes, Joseph Hayes was most talented.”

Miss Breslin had thought so too – although he still didn’t disclose the information. At best it might dampen her in her employer’s eyes, and at worst put her in danger, should the killer be of the firm and hear there was someone Hayes had had complete confidence in…

“So you see Peter, you joined us at a rather difficult time.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I love a challenge.”

It was the same answer he had given Neal – to his credit, the agent had taken it well, if looking slightly shocked that he would go so far. El had most seriously rebuked him after he’d left.

Well… in a fun way, but still.

“I am glad to hear it.” He took a sip. “Joseph will be missed.”

Somehow, Peter didn’t have the feeling that he was being genuine; and add to that Neal’s hints that this might be an inside job…

But so far, there was no motive. They had had a functioning prototype, and an all-but-genius who had built it; and right now, they had lost both.

Not as much as Miss Breslin had lost, though, and he reminded himself to let her know what he was doing here, lest she grow suspicious in turn. She would, after all, have every reason to be. Considering he had originally asked her to talk to the FBI, only now seemingly to end up working for Kent…

Yes, he most definitely needed to talk to her again. Somehow, he couldn’t help but think that she hadn’t told the FBI everything she knew – and she certainly hadn’t mentioned their relationship in the beginning, so…

“Well, let’s hope for better times” he said smoothly. “It’s rather shocking, to be sure, but a prototype can be bult again; and at the very least, should it be sold, we’ll know where it comes from. And that will be proof enough who killed Mr. Hayes”.

Kent acquiesced and their meeting ended soon.

While he didn’t want to lose any time seeking out Miss Breslin, he was very aware that he shouldn’t draw any suspicion, and so rather passed the rest of the morning in his new office (the view was amazing, but the cost was not something he was or would at any chance be ready to pay), drinking coffee he normally would have called way too expensive, despite it being delicious, going through the files and for all appearances, making a head start of the duties he had taken upon himself; and of course calling El.

The opportunity to talk to Miss Breslin presented itself somewhat earlier than he would have thought; they happened across each other in the break room. That she was surprised to see him was obvious.

“Mr. Burke! What are you doing here?”

“Miss Breslin. I decided to accept Mr. Kent’s job offer after all” he said smoothly. “Better hours, for one thing… Being one’s own boss _is_ nice, don’t get me wrong, but it can be exhausting.”

“I can easily believe that.”

He studied her with sympathy. It couldn’t be an easy situation for her – she had lost the mans he loved, and more than that – she wasn’t even allowed to show her grief, because no one had known they were even together; and when Peter imagined that anything might happen to Elizabeth, he could only too well understand what she must be going through.

Deciding it best to grab the bull by the horns, he said, “I read about what happened… I’m sorry.”

“You were so kind to keep it a secret” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

“Didn’t seem like the kind of thing anyone had the right to gossip about” he said with emphasis, because it hadn’t been. Granted, he only had Diana, but if she had ever fallen in love with anyone belonging to his firm, he wouldn’t have minded in the least.

“Still, it was kind”. And a quiver of her lips led him to believe that she hadn’t been met with much kindness lately.

“It can’t be easy for you” he said honestly.

“It hasn’t been” she replied with equal frankness. “Do you know how he died?”

“The paper said a heart attack” he recalled, being careful not to show much he knew.

“Yes, but that wasn’t all”. She swallowed. “Joseph was poisoned. This chemical... it drops the heart rate, spikes the blood pressure. You can't see. And a few minutes later, you can't feel. You're _dead_.”

Now, while Peter had of course been aware of the poison – Neal had been rather open about it all, probably figuring it would motivate him – It sounded absolutely horrible. “You can't think about that” he said quietly. 

“It's all I can think about. If someone took away the person you loved, wouldn't you want them to know how it feels?”

She glanced at the wedding ring he had refused to take off, even when he was undercover.

“I suppose so” he admitted. “If someone did something to my wife…”

And, after all, in his line of work (not the legal one, the other one – thankfully only very few people were ever interested in hurting a CPA, may their taxes be ever so bad) there was always the possibility that someone might come after them; so he was by no means a stranger to such fears.

There had been one or two occasions, in fact, where he had been more than scared that someone might come after El; she had taken it all in stride, of course, but that hadn’t made it any easier for Peter himself.

And so, he tried his best to comfort her, even though at the same time, he had the feeling that she knew more than she let on; but well; time would have to do the work to make her trust him enough; as a matter of fact, he probably already had made some progress when it came to that…

Peter Burke, despite such mercenary thoughts, had always tried to be decent, so he decided against another attack for now. Let her calm down somewhat.

Or at least so he thought until later that day as he walked back to his office and watched Miss Breslin round a corner that he already knew led directly to Kent’s office.

Seemed like someone was playing detective.

He better keep an eye on that.

* * *

“You know, “Any form of betrayal can be final. Dishonesty can be final. Selling out is final. But you are just talking now. Death is what is really final.””

He rolled his eyes. “Any reason you’re now quoting Hemingway at me, Mozz?”

“No, just like you have no reason to suspect that your suspect number one being sent after another subject might not be a good idea?”

“Don’t worry, Burke wants to see justice done. He hates murderers.”

“He hates –“

“Give me one instance of when he harmed anyone. And I don’t mean their wallets. Not a single witness has ever even mentioned him carrying a weapon or trying to menace anyone.”

“So he’s a boy scout?”

“I wouldn’t go as far as that. But he was our way in.”

“So you think he’ll lead us somewhere?”

“I hope for the best. Kent trusts him; that’s something.”

“Yes it is, but I am concerned about the fact that Kent’s not the only one to trust Burke.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“With this case, at least:”

Sadly, Mozzie was far more right than it made Neal comfortable. Because, beneath it all – he couldn’t deny it – he did like Burke, and he did trust him to some extent. It didn’t make any sense, but that was how it was.

“Well, if it does no good, I fail to see how it could do any harm” he finally said.

Mozzie had to agree with him, although it was obvious he did so under protest.

* * *

Peter soon realized that, much as he wanted to try and work on the case, he had so much to do – had indeed been put into a position of such responsibility that he had to actually work to keep up with it all.

It seemed he had made quite an impression on Kent. Well, that was something, but still… it made him slightly too prominent; and certainly, Miss Breslin had not been in any hurry to take him into her confidence.

Now, if he were to be one of the underlings, just some sort of unimportant employees who could come and go as he pleased as long as he was careful…

But he wasn’t, of course.

But if he tried…

On the other hand –

Yet there was nothing to be said against it, was there? Neal didn’t know any of his friends or co-workers; so while it may be possible that he knew of Diana, there was no reason to think –

As soon as she picked up the phone he asked, “How’s your British accent?”


	9. Chapter 9

The park was far enough away from Novice that they shouldn’t be worried about anyone catching sight of them: and even if, Neal was ready to bet that most employees had no idea who he was, and where he worked.

And so, he was waiting for Peter Burke during the latter’s lunch hour.

“Neal”.

He could move far too silently for Neal’s liking.

“Peter” he said casually, the other sitting down on the bench next to him and handing him a cup of coffee that proved to be perfect in every way.

“My new assistant makes an excellent cup of espresso” he said simply.

“Any regrets about having chosen to be self-employed?” he asked rather sarcastically.

“None” he replied simply, “After all, I am currently investigating a murder in the firm.”

While that was correct, Neal was ready to bet that he had dealt with murderers more than once. One tended to come across them, moving in the circles he did.

“Any news?”

“I think Miss Breslin is getting up to something. I’m afraid she doesn’t trust me as much as an employee of Novice’s than as a independent CPA.”

“So she’s conducting her own investigations?”

That was bad news. People getting involved into their cases was always a problem; for one, nine times out of ten, they didn’t know what to look for, or looked in the wrong places, or ended up placing themselves in danger.

“Don’t worry, I am looking out for her” he said simply, with that – well, with a certain fatherly concern that made Neal believe him despite himself.

“I’ve got it handled” he then continued, leaving him to wonder what he meant.

* * *

Danielle Thomason was not only a fine piece of work – Clinton had done his best within a few hours of setting out to make sure Peter could plant her at Novice – and so, but two days after he had realized Miss Breslin was putting herself in danger by trying to find out the truth by himself, he had been able to let slip during one of his and Kent’s meetings that he had an old friend (not even a lie – he could have gone with his employee, but then, he didn’t want Diana’s real name to be brought into this) who he thought would be perfect for the firm, and who was in need of a job right now…

Kent had taken the hint immediately – perhaps feeling that he would be even more motivated to make sure the firm was doing well – and had happily agreed, and so, he now saw Diana do her best to get acquainted with her colleagues at the water cooler.

Ah. She had already spied Miss Breslin, and was chatting with her. That was his old friend all over.

He smiled to himself and passed them, nodding politely at both of them. Just as he walked around the corner, he heard Diana exclaim, “I can’t tell you how thankful I am – hadn’t seen Peter Burke in years, but he’d heard I was out of a job, and just called me out of the blue to say he’d landed me one.”

Clever girl. Not only had she just let her know they hadn’t been in contact, thereby removing any suspicions she might have about their relationship, but at the same time, she was doing her outmost to make Miss Breslin trust him completely again.

Yes, Diana had been exactly the right choice for this. She would get into Kent’s office too, and do what needed to be done, he had no doubt of that.

And so, he went about his day, although during the afternoon, he was more than a little disturbed when he got a text from a certain rogue FBI agent.

Say what you want, he thought as he read it for the third time, at least Neal would never stoop so low…

* * *

Having gone through the witness statements again, Neal found himself wondering if anyone but Kent had known where Hayes was at this particular day, and that he had the prototype with him; but really, since it was a functioning, finished prototype, there was so little motive in having it stolen, it didn’t seem likely that he would…

His phone rang. “Hello?”

It was Kate. “Hello Neal, I just got a call from Elizabeth Burke.”

To say that he was surprised would have been an understatement. “What did she want?”

It might be that her husband had found out something and had judged it more prudent and careful to call his wife instead of the FBI.

But instead, his surprise deepened when she replied matter-of-factly, “She and her husband want to have us over for dinner.”

“They what?”

“Elizabeth was as nice as always” they had met two times so far, so Neal didn’t think this as high a praise as Kate undoubtedly considered it “and she meant, since now you’re working together, there was nothing wrong with a friendly dinner.”

No, there probably wasn’t for Elizabeth Burke. Wasn’t it the most natural thing in the world, to just invite them over for dinner? They had probably done this a million times already, being the team that they were. But maybe – maybe it might be an opportunity, too. He still had some lingering doubts whether or not Elizabeth Burke knew what her husband got up to; and observing them together might give him a hint as to what was going on.

And anyway, any time spent with his target had to be worth it.

“We agreed on tomorrow night”.

Oh, good to know. “Alright. When?” he decided against complaining.

* * *

“And, anything?”

“So far, Jessica hasn’t said anything about Joseph” Diana reported, “But I think I’ll get into Kent’s office tomorrow. I wanted to wait a day or two before I begin spying on the boss.”

“Really? As if you didn’t know about my hobbies when you applied for your job with my firm.”

“But boss, that’s because we met before that, and in quite a different way.”

That was true, of course; it had been somewhat of a surprise when they had been after the same target – a CEO who was known to like expensive things and starve his employees; but they had quickly come to an understanding.

“Yes, well, I hope you’re not complaining.”

“Oh, I’m not; most people at Novice are pretty decent, if a bit full of themselves.”

“I think that comes from making big money too easily.”

There was a reason he preferred his work – well, in truth was there were more than one reason; but one of those had always been that it reminded him that he should take care and never ever let his guard down. He couldn’t risk that, because more than anything else, he couldn’t risk his life with Elizabeth; and so he had always been especially careful, and he had even more of a reason to be so now, with Neal on his trail.

Not that he could prove anything against him. Yet. But who knew what an ambitious young agent might find?

As often, it turned out that his wife had been thinking along the same lioness; and so, when he came home that night, she kissed him and explained “I’ve asked Neal and Kate over for dinner. I thought it might be a great idea to get to know each other better.”

“Mrs. Burke, are we playing with fire?” he asked, drawing her into his arms.

“Maybe just a little. But mostly, I think it would be better to get to know him better. And you know, Kate is lovely.”

“She is” he agreed, mostly because he would never contradict his wife when it came to such things, and because he felt more than confident that she was right, as she was in most things.

“So, think you can deal with Neal for a few hours?”

“It’s not like we keep anything indiscriminating in the house” he said simply, reaching down o pet Satchmo, who had been clamouring for attention ever since he came through the door. It was true; he had always been careful to have his work and private lives strictly separated, at least when it came to the part of his work that could be called objectionable by normal standards. If Neal hoped that he would find anything, he would be thoroughly disappointed. As if they would ever be so careless.

It would be something if he could already have some evidence for him, if there was development in the case – it would certainly give them something to talk about, at least; but then, they had yet to grow bored of one another.

Look at him, being worried bout being bored while talking to the FBI agent who was after him.

That reminded him.

He pulled out the burn phone of the month. “Keller’s been in touch.”

“What does he want?”

That was just the thing. “I think he thinks that I might want to get rid of Neal.”

At least the text had been worded that way – making him think that the agent was imply looking for an excuse. Trouble was, he couldn’t very well warn Neal without explaining how he knew Keller, and why he was aware he wasn’t Neal’s friend.

“Oh, dear. Any idea what he’s planning?”

“Nothing precise yet. I don’t even know what he’s got against him – doesn’t strike me as much more likely that he would be a danger to Keller as opposed to anyone else.”

Wouldn’t it even make more sense to go after the higher-ups?

They might have to move against Keller eventually, if only because Peter objected to his methods and to how far he was prepared to go. He had his uses, he wouldn’t deny that; but there was a difference between an agent who was ready to now and then turn a blind eye because he liked being owed a favour or a small sum making its way onto their account and an agent who simply didn’t care about any rules, or how many people got hurt, as long as they got their way.

He'd always had a bad feeling about Keller, if he was being honest. And now…

Yes, perversely put, he’d rather have Neal after him than Keller at his side. That was show it was.

At least El agreed with him, or she wouldn’t have invited him and his girlfriend over for dinner.

* * *

Neal knew better than to keep the fact that he was going to have dinner with the Burkes from his colleagues, mostly because Mozzie would have found out anyway, and he would have eventually told June because… well, because she was June.

“Is that wise?” she now asked while, as usual, being busy with updating the FBI’s filings system one way or another.

“I don’t know – probably not” he admitted.

“If anything it proves that Burke doesn’t keep anything that might incriminate him in his home” she said confidently. June had always been privy to his suspicions concerning Peter Burke, right from the beginning; and she had never doubted them in any way, shape or form, which had at times been balm to his soul.

“Or he could be so conceited that he thinks we can’t prove anything” he tried to argue.

“Why? He seem the type?”

He had to admit that no, he didn’t. If anything, Peter seemed the man to make extra sure that Neal couldn’t prove anything. Otherwise, he’d already have been behind bars and he wouldn’t have had ignored Kate on so many evenings while he went through the case files again and again and again.

“Well then” she said simply, “At the very least you will spend some more time with Burke, and get to know him even better. That’s something, isn’t it? Byron always said the longer you get to observe a man, the easier it is to catch him.”

He wasn’t quite sure that was the truth, considering he was now working with Peter as well, and he had yet to have an idea; but it was something to be encouraged, at least.

For now, though, he concentrated on the impeding dinner.


	10. Chapter 10

“How do I look?“

The question startled Neal out of his revery. “Lovely”.

She rolled her eyes. “If you –“

“No, no” he was quick to assure her, getting up and kissing her. “You look absolutely ravishing. I’ve just been lost in my own head. You’re wonderful”.

And he meant it. He knew that Peter had been right when he had called them both lucky.

Somewhat placated, she smiled. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”

He knew he did; although he did wish he had the money for some of Adler’s measures suits.

Then again, even some of those how had the money didn’t buy those.

He very pointedly decided not to think of his target and instead concentrated on his amazing girlfriend looking as beautiful as he had ever seen her.

“Anything I should know?” she then asked, “Just in case?”

“I don’t think either of the Burkes is likely to be trying to poison us tonight.”

“I really don’t think there was ever a chance of Elizabeth going after us.”

That might or might not be true, but God only knew what her husband might get up to if he found himself in a corner.

Then, on the other hand, he had yet to find an account of him having ever resorted to violence, and his despise for the murderer of Joseph Hayes had been more than obvious…

Well, like June had said, at least he was now going to spend some more time with his – yes, he supposed he could easily call him his CI now.

* * *

“It looks fantastic, El.”

Of corpus it did; his wife could hardly have had her own business – been an excellent event planner – without eventually learning a trick or two in the kitchen; and furthermore, both of them remembering his attempts to make something edible early on in their married life, they had quickly decided that most of the cooking would be El’s job, with Peter always being ready to help out by chopping anything that needed to be chopped or doing the dishes afterwards.

“Thanks, hon. Would you mind setting the table?”

Of course he didn’t.

Satchmo, as usual, let them know they had visitors before they had even managed to ring the bell, rushing towards the door with his tail wagging as soon as he could sniff them; and accordingly, Peter went to welcome them. “Neal. Kate. Please do come in.”

The dog was happily barking and wagging his tail at them, and Kate, who it wasn’t difficult to identify as an animal lover, happily bent down to pet him, causing him to wag his tail even faster.

“We’ll end up spoiling him” Peter observed fondly.

“Oh, he deserves it. Don’t you, Satchmo? I am sure you’re a very good boy, aren’t you?”

Another happy bark.

El came in from the kitchen to greet them likewise, all smiles and happiness.

“So what are you saying? How about an aperitif?”

They agreed, of course; Peter, who was at this point usually in charge of the drinks (again because there were some things he should be kept from, and the kitchen was during dinner invitations definitely one of them).

Kate asked for a gin and tonic, Neal for a glass of wine. He was far from surprised; he didn’t really strike him as a beer type of guy. But then, Peter quite liked a good red wine himself, and happily joined him together with El.

“So, Pitzer, I hear you and Neal are colleagues now” Kate said, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

“I wouldn’t quite say that” he replied modestly. “I mostly walk around and keep my eyes open, and so far, nothing’s really caught my fancy.”

“But who knows what tomorrow will bring?” Neal said, rather forcibly brightly, if you asked Peter, but it was all too understandable; here he was, stuck on the case, while Miss Breslin was suffering. It was frustrating even to Peter, and he didn’t have the law enforcement experience of the young man. Add to that that he was an excellent agent, just going by his file (and the more private satisfaction that he actually suspected Peter of at least part of what he had done) and so must be used to having found something by now.

Well; if he himself didn’t deliver, Diana certainly would; it was something, but he could hardly tell Neal yet.

It was a risk they we retaking, as he well knew – by this point, he must have looked into his firm and therefore be aware what she looked like; but her legend was so good, her fake ID impeccable, and not to mention her accent and the slight changes she had made to her appearance most likely enough to throw most people off, and it was only for a short time, so all should be well. As long a she didn’t run into Neal… and she was too clever for that.

“But anyway, let’s not talk about work right now. Did you catch the game last Sunday?”

As it quickly turned out, neither of their young guests was particularly interested in sports, but that was easily enough amended – Kate liked to read, and Neal had (unsurprisingly) quite a bit of knowledge about art and other topics close to Peter’s heart; and there was even something of a thrill (he would readily admit it) to having to hide just how much he knew.

When El came to have her wine, she glanced at him and shook her head ever so slightly, proving that she thought the same, but her eyes were laughing, and that was good enough for him.

“Dinner should be done soon.”

“Wonderful, hon.”

Satchmo, of course, was still delighted with their visitors, but since Kate had just as much pleasure petting him as he had receiving her attentions, that was far from a problem.

“So, Kate, how’s Mr. Adler?” El asked. “He’s certainly one of the less demanding and more pleasant CEOs I have ever worked with.”

Small wonder Kate seemed to be already so fond of his wife, but then, he wasn’t one to talk. Sometimes, they purposefully lengthened the time they had spent as boyfriend and girlfriend before moving in together because some people seemed shocked when they heard El had shown up with a suitcase at Peter’s place opine month into their relationship – and yet, even back then, he had been so sure that she was the one, he’d not even put up the smallest of protests. Marriage, the house and Satchmo had only been a matter of time, and again, a very short amount of time, then.

“I’ll go check on the oven” he said, this being one of the few things he was allowed to do this evening and got up.

It was only too natural – he had rather expected it – that Neal should follow him. Of course; El and Kate probably had something to say about the charity event, or had lit upon some other topic – his wife being a bookworm herself – and they had, after all, another thing to talk about.

“So how’s Mr. Kent?” Neal asked him.

“Perfectly cordial.”

As a matter of fact, if he had to be viewed as a suspect – and they had to – then Peter would readily admit that there was both something awe-inspiring and disgusting about the sang-froid Kent had been showing. He didn’t think he could have murdered someone and then simply gone about his day.

He suddenly found himself wondering if Neal had ever killed someone. Agents normally carried weapons, didn’t they? Although he was reasonably sure – from experience – that he wasn’t in the habit of carrying a concealed weapon, and he most definitely wasn’t doing so now.

“My first day, I shared a glass of Armagnac with but since then I’ve pleaded not being able to drink while on duty.”

“Not to your tastes?”

“Not really into sharing a drink and a chat with a murderer, if he is one” he shrugged. “Seems kind of insensitive towards Joseph Hayes and Miss Breslin.”

“Made any progress there?” he asked, having been informed by Peter that she seemed a little wary of him since he had accepted the job offer.

“A little” he recalled her being rather more friendly to him near the water cooler after her talk with Diana, and her even teasing him a little about sharing her boss’ daily vice, although he’d given her the same answer he’d just given Neal.

“Good. We can’t have our informants pitted against each other” he said simply.

Peter grinned – he couldn’t help it. “So now I am an informant?”

“Well, I don’t know what else to call you, Peter.”

 _On the contrary, I am sure there are many things you would call me if you had the chance, buddy. Not that I’m going to find out._ He was too careful for that.

Peter had to admit to himself that he was having more than a little fun, even given that he was working on a murder case. There was just something about chasing after a bad guy, connecting the dots… and the undercover work was amusing in its own right.

His smile dropped as he recalled Miss Breslin’s dejected expression, though. “Well, I hope I’ll get the information soon. There is no point to dragging this out.”

* * *

Neal could no longer deny it to himself – had been struggling with it ever since that first interview – had even tried to reason that he was simply glad he was getting closer and closer (and that was even in doubt) – but now, there could be doubt that – well –

He really _did_ like Peter Burke. Unironically, honestly liked him, both as a man and a person, despite everything he suspected him of (as a matter of fact, that might even have been part of the charm).

He had always scoffed at agents who got too close to their targets, who claimed that there was even something like friendship between them and their CIs. And here he was.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just this and that” he replied calmly, taking another sip of his wine. “And, how does dinner look?”

“Well, because El cooked it.”

“Not much for cooking yourself?”

“I tried in the first few years of our marriage – El quickly learned to keep the takeout menus ready.”

He was just so damn friendly, and in the end, so very human that it was hard not to like him. Just ask Kate. She probably thought Neal could learn a thing or two about being a considerate husband or boyfriend from Peter.

“So, how did you and Kate meet?”

“Oh, someone tried to steal a Raphael her boss owns. I was assigned the case.”

“Ah, Mr. Adler. He did keep his promise – my next audit.”

The way it had looked, probably only one of many jobs he’d gotten that day.

“Well, can’t hurt.”

“No, and since he didn’t strike me as the kind of man to have his files under his coffee machine or behind mouse traps, it won’t be too difficult.”

“That happens?”

“More often than you would think, Neal.”

He didn’t even mind that they were sort of on a first-name basis when the opportunity presented itself.

This was going to get rather complicated before it ended, he was sure.

* * *

They returned to the living room to find El and Kate chatting away, as Peter had known they would.

Not that he’d spent his time less pleasantly. He’d early on admitted to himself that Neal was good company, and if it hadn’t been for that one small detail of him being after him, he would have almost been ready to call him a friend.

Dinner was of course as delicious as he had foreseen; and so, it wasn’t difficult to see that Kate kept slipping Satchmo bites because she liked him, rather than because she wanted to get rid of it.

“Well then” he said, raising his glass of wine. “To a wonderful evening.”

His eyes met Neal’s, and if there was anything approaching wariness in them, at least he could tell the agent was amused, as well.


	11. Chapter 11

It was a few days later that the breakthrough came, thanks to Diana, as Peter had foreseen. He was just going through the company expenses (and reflecting that, if this had indeed been his job, he would have done a lot of good; _someone_ was not talented with numbers, that was for certain) when she entered his office. It was lunch hour, undoubtedly chosen by her on purpose, so fewer people would see her on her way.

“Hey boos. You were right – Kent’s been shredding a lot of papers lately.” She held out an envelope. “Today’s trove.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

“Give me a raise.”

“Nice try.”

She grinned and went back to her pretend-duties for the time being.

While he didn’t have the time to completely assemble the papers over the course of the day, he caught enough of their meaning to feel that it had been more than worth it to risk bringing her in.

And so, he went to have a cigarette – not that he smoked, but it was always good to have an excuse – and called Neal. “I think I just found the motive.”

* * *

They could have used a computer to assemble the papers, of course, but there was no reason to – Mozzie could do it much faster than any of those.

And so, barely two hours after he had been presented with the envelope Peter had had quickly sent to him, he came into his office. “The corporate world is at it again – never trust the Man!”

“What is it?” he asked eagerly.

“Remember when he said he was close to a functioning prototype?”

“Kent claimed the prototype was already working, yes.”

“He lied. It _never_ worked. Kent tried to make it look like espionage, and he had the damn thing the whole time. _This_ is the cover-up. And that’s not everything!”

He produced another piece of paper with flourish. “It's addressed to an unnamed foreign intelligence agency to arrange a meeting in the next month and a half. The trips he's been taking... Kent knew he wouldn't win the defence contract from our country in time. So, he decided to sell his device to another government. It's treason for profit.”

“Hayes didn't want any part of that. That's why Kent killed him” Neal deduced. “And corporate espionage is the perfect cover. He made it look like a competitor stole a working product. Company saves face... if a foreign government turns up with it later... Kent's in the clear, and Hayes stays silent.”

They were silent for a moment. “Peter was right all along, then; there’s something fishy about Kent” he finally offered, fully knowing that it was an understatement. He met Mozzie’s eyes. “What?”

“You like him” he said simply. “You, mon, frère, are on the edge of a very slippery slope… or should I say you’re close to the point of no return.”

“Stop it, Mozz. Try to make him trust me is probably a good idea”.

“So you don’t like him?” he challenged him.

He evaded answering the question despite his better knowledge. “You like his wife.”

“Who, might I point out, so far doesn’t seem to be implicated in any of his crimes.”

“As you love to remind me, we don’t have any proof that Peter himself is guilty of anything” he argued against every single of his convictions, only becoming aware that referring to him as Peter in front of Mozzie was probably not doing him any favours.

“If you say so, but don’t blame me if you feel bad when you’re slapping the handcuffs on him”.

“One thing at a time. I need to talk to our inside man.”

He ignored Mozzie’s glance.

* * *

“So it was Kent after all” Peter said matter-of-factly.

“It certainly seems that way, but we can’t arrest him” he replied simply. “How do we prove it when Kent hasn't committed treason yet?”

He hummed thoughtfully, then slowly began, “But he has committed murder. And we know Kent’s concerned about anyone finding out what he's really up to. Maybe Hayes talked to someone before he died.”

“You want to use Jessica as bait?”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly. I'm meeting Kent in the afternoon” he informed him, “Something or other about the accounts… or perhaps he just wants someone to talk to instead of another boring meeting. Maybe I can hint to him that she knows something. He'll come after her. And when he does, we take him down. Of course we’ll keep near her, and let her know what we’re about to do. She wants revenge anyway.”

He wondered what Mozzie would have said about this casual use of we, but there was little he could do about it right now. “Alright, but be careful –“

“Don’t worry, I’ve talked my way out of much more difficult situations.”

He had the feeling that, at least, was something he was reasonably sure was true.

* * *

Peter had gone back and forth whether he should accept a drink from Kent today and ultimately decided that it would be a good idea – make their meeting seem more informal, for one thing; and he had let Miss Breslin’s name slip casually, like it wasn’t of any importance, but at the same time, make Kent think it was.

Ah well; he had manipulated people more times than he cared to admit (although it had mostly been fun, he wasn’t ashamed to confess).

It was only when his vision was growing fuzzy that he realized he was in trouble.

* * *

Things had a way rot go pear-shaped really fast during cases, as Neal well knew.

Still – this was something else.

He had simply sought out Jessica during her lunch hour, to warn her and let her know they’d be with her every step of the way –

She was fiddling with her purse as he talked, nervous he supposed, but there was nothing wrong with that –

And then said handbag fell down and split open, and gentleman that he was, he went to pick it up.

A few pieces of paper fell out, and he needed a moment to comprehend.

His blood froze cold.

Shredded papers.

“Jessica?” he looked up, clutching the bag. “Were you in Kent’s office?”

An expression he had seen too often crossed her face and his heart started beating wildly. “You _were_ in Kent's office. What'd you do, Jessica?”

When she didn’t answer, he repeated, desperately, “ _What did you do_?” 

“I – I wanted him to know how it feels to die the way that Joseph died.”

“You _poisoned_ him? How?”

“Daily vice. The Armagnac.”

 _No_. No no no no no. 

“Peter's in there with him!”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “But he said he doesn’t partake –“

“Well, if you’re comfortable taking that risk” he barked, then barged right into Novice.

* * *

Act. He had to act quickly, while he could still think.

He grabbed the Armagnac. “What is this? There's a powder on this. I got to get to the phone and call 911.”

Kent, who had been drinking faster than him, was already slipping under, and quickly. “What?” he slurred.

“There’s powder on this. We’ve been poisoned. The phone…” he tried desperately to get up.

 _El_ , he suddenly thought. _No; don’t. People think like this, think of their loved ones, when they are dying, and you’re not dying now. You’re not. Think. You have to_ think _, you have to do something._

He turned towards Kent. “How much time do we have? Is there an antidote?”

The man was almost unresponsive at this point. “I don't... I don't know.

“How much time did Hayes have?” he persevered. If they knew how long they had, they could come up with something… Neal. He had to reach Neal. The FBI could get here faster than anyone else, they could get them help…

“I don't know.”

“Come on, Kent!” We’re dying here man, come on. “Think! This is the same poison that you gave him!”

Despite being firmly in the grip of the poison by now, Kent appeared to be confused as to how or why he knew. But that couldn’t be helped now. He would worry about that after his life had been saved.

“You met with him, you gave him something to drink. And then he died. Now, how much time passed?”

“Who _are_ you?”

His cover was most definitely blown, but again, he was not going to worry about that now. After all, Kent had just confessed to him – yet that was another detail that didn’t seem nearly as important as it would have just a very short time ago.

“How much time, Kent?”

“I-I don't know. I don't know. 15... 15, 20... What? I don't... 15 minutes.”

And at least two of those must already have passed… no, probably closer to five… and maybe he had lost some time –

The phone – he needed to get –

He hit the floor and everything turned black for a while.

* * *

Neal razed towards the reception, flashing his badge. “FBI. I-I need to get to the top floor.”

The man studied his credentials, obviously unimpressed. “Nobody gets to the top floor.”

“I told you, FBI! This is an emergency!”

“What's the emergency?”

“Please! People are in danger –“

“I got to check with Mr. Kent and then my supervisor.”

“Yes, good. Yes, check with Kent” he announced, already turning away, only to all but run into a young black woman who asked in a British accent, “I am sorry, sir, but I couldn’t help but overhear – did you say someone is in danger?”

“Yes – Kent and his – his new employee –“ and he didn’t stop, he simply jumped over the barrier.

Later, he would realize that she had gasped Peter’s name.

“Hey! Stop!” the man called.

“Call 911!” he shouted, hammering on the button for the elevator.

“Get back here! I will call the police!”

“Good. Call the paramedics, call the police, call the Bureau itself if it makes you feel better, but do something!”

He stared at the panel. God, how was he supposed to –

Suddenly, the woman from before was next to him. “Let me”.

“You two need to exit the elevator now!”

“Will you send me up to Kent's floor?” he asked as he watched her simply remove the panel and hotwire the elevator. That was one way to do it, although he wondered how she had had the idea – it certainly wouldn’t have sprung to his mind, but then he was a FBI agent, not a – whatever she was at Novice. Maybe she was one of the programmers.

“Hell no!”

“Then I can't. Sorry.”

He was clearly talking into a walky-talky now. “This is alpha-2 in the lobby. Where's my backup?!”

“I hope it comes soon” she told him, and he suddenly and detachedly realized that her accent was gone. “Now this should work –“

And the elevator set into motion.

Neal opened his mouth to ask certain questions, then closed them again. What was important now was to get to Peter, and quickly.

The elevator stopped and they ran, the woman actually before Neal, proving she knew her way around the place. He filed the knowledge away for later.

Oh God. Peter had drunk something of the poison. He and Kent were both unconscious.

They both kneeled down next to him. “Peter!? The woman shook his shoulder. “Peter!”

“We need to get him out of here” Neal said eagerly, and she nodded, helping him drag him out of the office.

Thankfully he regained something like consciousness; his eyes focused on Neal, probably because at the moment, he was the one leaning over him. “Neal?”

“Yes, Peter, it’s me. Come on, buddy. It's gonna be okay. Stay with me, all right? Hang in there.”

He grabbed at him. “Get Kent.”

“No, no. Peter, we don't have time.”

“Come on. You’re FBI You can't leave him behind.”

“You are dying!”

“Neal! Neal! We don't leave anybody behind.”

Suddenly the woman said something like “I’m getting him – Boss, I’ll do it, alright? You hang in there! _You hang in there_!”

And she was off.

* * *

Peter wasn’t quite sure what was going on. He knew Neal was there – had he managed to get to the phone after all? He didn’t think so but it was possibly – and for a second he thought he had heard Diana, but how that was supposed to be possible? She’d be at her post –

Neal’s face swam in and out of focus, and he heard the words clear as a bell, even as he was still trying to make him get Kent.

“You are dying!”

Yes. Yes he was. And if he was, then no one…

But really, he owed him that much. How much time had he cost the young agent for chasing after him?

He grabbed at him again. “Neal – Neal – something – you have to know –“

“No, no, Peter, just try to hang on, alright? Help’s on the way –“

“Neal… Keller’s dirty.”

He stared at him in shock. “What?”

“I – gave me your file – know he’s been in contact with other criminals – Will probably move against you one of these days – You – right all along – I’m Bonds Dickey”. He took a deep, stuttering breath. There was something else he had to say “El – no idea – never knew.” The last thing he wanted was to cause her problems.” Tell her –“

“You can tell her yourself!”

He turned his head and talked to someone, and Peter thought he understood the word “Kent” but he slipped under, probably for the last time.

Of course all he thought about was El.

* * *

Neal was vaguely aware of the woman whose name he still didn’t know standing next to him, staring in horror just as he was himself.

“Heart's stopped. I need the epinephrine.”

 _Come on, Peter_ , he chanted in his mind, come on. _You’re Bonds Dickey; You’re nothing if not resilient._

“No, nothing on the pulse. Clear!”

And then, suddenly, his chest moved again and he actually opened his eyes.

Thank god. He slumped against the wall behind him, but when he turned to share his relief, the woman had disappeared. Puzzled, he looked around for her, but there was something more important to do, and so he stepped up to Peter. “Welcome back.”

“Hey” he managed to reply.

“What – what’s going on?” Kent, who had also been saved (although Neal couldn’t have cared less about that) demanded to know.

He held up his badge. “You’re under arrest for murder, that’s what’s going on”.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Alex lead Jessica away and suddenly realized that he was now supposed to do the same thing to –

“Peter!”

He was host sitting up on the stretcher when out of nowhere Elizabeth ran up to him to pull him in their arms. “Oh, hon –“

“I’m alright, El” he said quietly, “I am alright.”

She kissed him and Neal wondered how she had known, then he remembered Mozzie would have been informed.

Well, he’d known he liked her.

* * *

Whenever he had in the past contemplated the possibility that he could be arrested, he had hoped that El wouldn’t be there to see it, but he couldn’t help.

What he could do, however, was warn her. Really, Neal was generous to give him the time. “El” he said quietly. “I thought I was dying – no, I _was_ dying – and when Neal came to get me, I – well – I thought it wouldn’t matter, you see –“

“I understand” she replied in the same tone. “He knows.”

He nodded.

She kissed him. “I always knew this could happen” she murmured. “Don’t worry we’ll get through this. Together.”

“Together” he agreed, linking their hands.

Neal stepped up to them and he swallowed as he braced himself to hear the words.

He looked at them with an indecipherable expression on his face, but then turned to the paramedics instead of him. “And? How is the patient doing?”

“Thanks” he replied, not wanting to prolong the scene. He had after all just saved his life. “Feeling much better.”

But he was still addressing the paramedics. “He was talking absolute nonsense when I found him. Is that normal?”

“Anything can happen when one’s been poisoned, sir” the woman calmed him down.

What? Nonsense? Peter was reasonably sure that he had gotten his point across. What was he doing?

“Well then. Glad to hear you’ll be fine, Peter. If I were you, Mrs. Burke, I’d take him home and let him rest up for a few days.”

“It’s Elizabeth. Will do. And Neal –“ she kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

He actually blushed, but wouldn’t meet either of their eyes. “Duty and all that” he mumbled and moved away.

“Neal, wait!”

Finally he looked at him properly again.

He held out his hand. “Thank you”. _For everything_.

He hesitated for a second, then shook it. “You’re welcome.”

He hastened away rather quickly after that, but Peter couldn’t blame him for it.

What a strange day it had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the entirety of this fic exists because of that rescue scene in "Company Man". I saw it and my mind immediately went to dramamtic confession territory. ^^


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've realized this reads very much like a beginning... no decision has been made yet, but I might turn this into a series.

When they arrived home, Diana was waiting for them; and seeing her jolted a memory. “You were there, weren’t you?”

“I wasn’t going to sit back and wait when I hear you were in danger, boos”.

He reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “Thanks, but in front of Neal…”

If she was surprised at him using his first name so openly, she didn’t show it. Instead, she looked sheepish for a moment. “Might have dropped the accent. There was a lot going on.”

“Then we have to…”

“Don’t worry, I still wore my hair and make-up in a way I don’t usually do, and I called Clinton to make sure everything pertaining to me was deleted. And before leaving, I snagged my file”.

“Thank God for that. Still, you should probably lay lor for a while.”

“Don’t worry” she repeated. “I already made arrangements. But boss… are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, or I will be very shortly.”

“Now, first of all, we need a drink” El decided. “Diana, you’re staying for a while, right?”

She looked at Peter again, then nodded.

* * *

“So you just let him go” Mozzie stated calmly, then opened a drawer to get out the red wine he would always steadfastly deny he’d smuggled into the Bureau, then getting up and grabbing glasses from a drawer that, to anyone else, would have appeared to only hold files. “You had Bonds Dickey’s confession, and you let him go.”

“He had just almost died to close a case for us, Mozzie” he argued even though he knew it was a weak reason at best.

The truth was that, deep down, he considered it unfair to take Peter Burke in because he had confessed as he lay dying and that that just seemed unfair; that he was grateful to him for his work in the case; and that, first and foremost, when being compared to such a son of a bitch like Kent, he’d rather have a world with Peter Burke in it than not.

“And anyway, who was the one who called his wife? Did you want me to slap the handcuffs on him in front of her?”

That was hypocritical too, and they were both aware of it. They arrested people in front of their families all the time.

And yet it did the trick. “Just thought she had a right to know, is all” he muttered, pouring them both a drink. “With him…”

“Exactly” he said. “And for what it’s worth, he’s not like Kent. He’s not a murderer.”

“That’s sort of a low bar, mon capitaine.”

“I know” he sighed, taking a sip of the wine, not being surprised at all that it was a rather excellent one. “But at least that’s one case closed.”

Mozz stared at him, his brows furrowed. “There’s more to it than that. You’ve got a trick up your sleeve.”

“I wouldn’t call it a trick” he allowed himself to smile. He might have felt that using the confession as he lay dying might have been using an unfair advantage, but everything else was a different story… “What would you say if a British person suddenly had an American accent and then vanished as soon as they were no longer needed?”

“I would ask you if such things happened to you while you were walking by a run-down house that has not been lived in in several decades.”

“She’s not a ghost, Mozzie.”

“That’s what they want you to think. The moon landing being real and the paranormal not existing.”

“She helped me drag Peter out of Kent’s office. Hardly ethereal, wouldn’t you say?”

Mozzie was clearly intrigued. “Now that’s something different…”

“And she knew him. There can be no doubt about that.” He suddenly recalled something else. “She called him boss when talking to him, telling him to hold on.”

“Now, doesn’t our dear Bonds Dickey have exactly one employee?”

“Yes. Diana Berrigan. If I remember, she looked remarkably like the woman who helped me. Now, it won’t be enough to arrest him, but it should raise a few questions, wouldn’t you say? First and foremost, how someone who works for a CPA should have such an excellent fake ID that they can get a job…”

They toasted each other, smiling brightly.

Things were looking up.

* * *

The problem was after that, they went downhill fast.

Going back to Novice had, of course, not raised any eyebrows, since with every case, there was the chance that there were some minor details that had to be cleared up before they could properly close it.

Foolishly, he had believed that it must be easy to find the file of a British, female, young, black employee who, if she be indeed Peter’s, couldn’t have worked there for longer than two weeks at the most, but the opposite proved to be true.

“I’m sorry, agent” the young woman from IT immediately said after he had explained what he was after. “But yesterday morning – I really don’t know how it happened – our system crashed, and at least half of our files were compromised or deleted. We’ve been working on saving as many as we could, but…”

The implication was clear.

While the timing was certainly suspicious, he had so far found no evidence that Peter or anyone associated with him was specifically gifted with computers. Plus, it seemed like a lot of effort to hide evidence…

Still… Well, not all was lost. First and foremost, he had to find someone who remembered Diana Berrigan… or whatever she had called herself.

* * *

“Hm” the man hummed, staring at the picture of Diana Neal had pulled from Peter’s firm’s website. “She kind of looks like Danielle” he finally admitted “But I can’t say for sure they are the same person, really. And you said she was a CPA… she worked in sales and marketing…” his face brightened, as if he was proud of himself for coming up with something. “Is she British?”

“No. American.”

“Well, that decides that, then. Danielle’s from Manchester… born and bred, agent, I’m ready to swear to it, I studied in England for a while – not a chance that’s her. Plus, I heard Danielle found a better job at another firm… lucky her, she got out right on time. We others…”

As he listened to the man’s complaints, he decided that he would give her that – she was clever enough not just to disappear without a trace.

And, if she could keep up the accent for long enough to convince people she was absolutely British, than she could provably convince theme even if one of them met her accidentally that they had never met before.

It seemed like another point for Peter Burke.

But, as Neal out his head back on and left Novice, he paradoxically found himself wanting to laugh about it.

* * *

It might not have been the best idea to meet up for a coffee with Peter, but the truth was simply that – Neal wanted to make sure that he was doing as well as he had told him on the phone; granted, Mozzie reported that Elizabeth agreed that he was fine, but he needed to see it with his own eyes.

Gid knew, if Jessica hadn’t dropped her bag, if he hadn’t seen the papers, if they had been just a few minutes too late…

It would have been his fault. He had sent Peter to Novice, and he had almost died there.

“Neal” he said affably as always, holding out his hand, and he couldn’t deny him the pleasure of shaking his. He certainly looked well enough.

“How are you?”

He shook his head. “Never going to believe that I’m fine, are you.”

“Peter, you were poisoned.”

“You don’t have to remind me. El does that enough.”

“Is she alright?”

“Yes, she just had a bit of a shock when your colleague called her… Baby the way, she thinks his voice sounded really familiar.”

By now, Neal was well versed enough in his ways to feel sure that this was Peter’s way of letting him know that he knew, and that he wanted him to know as well. “He hears that quite often. One of those familiar voices, you know how it is.”

He hummed.

“As a matter of fact” Neal said conversationally just as the waitress brought their espressos, “Something similar happened to me the other day. You know, when we first happened across you, we checked out your firm…”

“Naturally.”

“And I have to say… your employee… Diana Berrigan?”

Peter nodded, taking a sip of his coffee, without appearing the least bit worried.

“She looks awfully like someone I could swear I met recently, but I’m not sure where…”

Of course Peter now knew that he knew as well, but that was all part of the game.

“Well, however that woman you met was, I am certain she was most competent and helpful, otherwise she wouldn’t have reminded you of Diana… even though – well, you should meet her sometime”.

He had always been rather impressed by Peter’s bluffing, and today was no exception. “I just might.”

“You can drop by anytime; I’ll be glad to show you my office.”

The weirdest part about this was that he wasn’t bragging, or at least wasn’t just bragging, that there was nothing indiscriminating to be found there – bond, he would genuinely be glad to do it, Neal could tell. And probably worse, at least from a law officer’s standpoint, was that he would be looking forward to it as well, if – no. Not if. He’d already gone too far. He would see Peter again, and he would come see his office; and knowing them, they would probably end up having lunch afterwards, chatting and talking and greatly enjoying each other’s company, because that was how it worked.

And yet Peter would continue his extracurricular activities and Neal would still be out there trying to catch him, and they would both be very aware of it, and it would probably lend an extra sense of merriment to it all.

And he was somehow glad that he had made it possible by ignoring Peter’s confession – genuinely glad and relieved.

None of this made any sense anymore whatsoever… and yet, somehow…

What friends did he have? There was Kate, of course, who he loved and who he really wished he could see more of; there were Mozzie and June and Alex; but when it came to people he didn’t work with…

Did Peter count as a work friend? Felt somewhat ironic, really. But they had worked together, if only for a brief moment in time, and he couldn’t forget that peter had almost died because of it, even if he looked and felt well enough now.

“So how’s Kate?”

That question, he could easily enough answer. And of course he had to inquire after Elizabeth afterwards, that was just the polite thing to do, especially since he’d almost inadvertently turned her into a widow.

* * *

After they had finished their coffee, they walked a little way together, until it became necessary for them to split for Neal to return to the Bureau and Peter to his office – or wherever he was headed; Neal was certain he had to have a studio or something of the kind somewhere, although he had yet to find any proof of it. 

“Well, Neal, it’s been nice seeing you again”.

Another handshake.

“I can only agree” he said simply, looking into his eyes and smiling. “As a matter of fact, I am looking forward to the next time.”

Whether it be during a case or simply meeting up like this, he added in silence, certain that Peter would think something amongst similar lines.

“Me too”. A bright, happy grin. “Well then, I’ll see you around, Neal.”

“See you around, Peter” he echoed and watched as the most brilliant criminal and probably one of the most decent man Gotham had ever seen walked away from him into the bright sunlight of a Tuesday afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, guys, here we are! Hope you enjoyed my first foray into this fandom, and have a most pleasant day!


End file.
